


Keri

by Rinkafic



Series: Keri 'verse [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, Stargate Atlantis AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-09
Updated: 2011-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:49:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 101,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinkafic/pseuds/Rinkafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Stargate let some really bad stuff through in the old days and humanity found itself on the brink of extinction.  Until an alien race stepped in and altered human physiology.</p><p>But not everyone is happy about their fate. </p><p> </p><p>The sequel to this story has finally been finished.  <i>Panor</i> is located here: </p><p>http://archiveofourown.org/works/397951</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Keri and Cocker Spaniels

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Artwork: Keri](https://archiveofourown.org/works/250772) by [Kazbaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazbaby/pseuds/Kazbaby). 



> There is some carnage in here, some character near-deaths and deaths, but I wouldn't call it a death-fic since almost everyone gets better. This is my answer to MPREG; making almost everyone hermaphrodites.
> 
> I need to get down on my knees thank my betas for sticking with me, and for giving me some very good advice and convincing me to drop that guy and not kill that other person. Hugs and love to Kyaraelf and ClWilson2006 for sticking through to the end, and to Carrie and Bethieboo for their reading and commentary that helped me make decisions.
> 
> I also want to kiss my artist, kazbaby, who made such beautiful accompanying pieces for this story. Awesome! I love my artist too!
> 
> Now, lets get this show on the road, I've got MORE stories to write in this 'verse already!

  
[](http://archiveofourown.org/works/250772) ...... [](http://archiveofourown.org/works/250772) ...... [](http://archiveofourown.org/works/250772)

  


Art by [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/kazbaby/profile)[**kazbaby**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/kazbaby/)  


“Maybe I should…” Sub Commander John Sheppard took a step back from the Gate, and pointed over his shoulder towards the control room. “I’ll go check on…”

McKay recognized the panicked look in Sheppard’s eyes and grabbed his friend by the elbow, keeping him in his place in the line of people and equipment waiting to go through the wormhole, back to Earth and Star Gate Operations. Back to the oppressive societal rules the Atlantis Expedition had been living without for the past three years while they were out of contact with the home world. But they had been ordered to return; almost everyone was going, leaving only a handful of crew to man the city until the future fate of the expedition had been determined.

A big hand fell on Sheppard’s shoulder and he looked up, startled to see Ronon standing there wearing a backpack and a determined scowl as he glared at the swirl of the wormhole. “Big guy? Where you going? I thought you were staying with Teyla?”

Ronon shrugged and nudged John forward slightly as the line moved. “Heard there might be trouble,” he said gruffly and glanced over at Rodney.

“Teyla needs you here.” John glared at Rodney, who had the good sense to look away, his eyes going up to the control room, over to the stairway, to Ronon, anywhere other than the now fuming John Sheppard.

The former runner merely shrugged and nudged Sheppard forward again.

With a frustrated huff, John waved his hand to indicate the Gate and SGO on the other side of it. “Ronon, they might not let you - hell, they might not let anyone come back to Atlantis! You need to stay here. Your place is with Teyla.”

“If that is the case, then perhaps it is best that we are both accompanying you on this journey.” Calm and ninja-like as ever, the Athosian woman appeared suddenly at John’s elbow, wearing her best fuzzy traveling coat and a pack on her back.

“I can’t ask this of you, Teyla, your people need you here. Your baby should be born here, not in some military bunker a galaxy away.” John stepped out of the line completely and waved the soldiers that waited behind them to move ahead. He had thought this discussion was over, that it had all been decided. As much as he hated leaving his friends behind, it was for the best. Or so he thought, so he had argued when the discussion had taken place.

Teyla put a hand to John’s cheek and pulled his face down to touch her forehead to his. “I appreciate your concern, John, I truly do. My people have Halling to lead them while I am away. I trust his judgment. You are family, and I believe you need me more than they do at this time.”

“We discussed this.” John stepped aside to let a trolley full of empty ammo cases slide past with a noisy rattle.

She leveled her ‘I’m annoyed with you’ look at him as she said, “During our previous discussion, you neglected to give us all the information necessary to come to the proper decision, John. There is trouble waiting for you, I cannot say I understand all that I have been told about your people, but I will not allow one of my family to go traveling on a troubled path alone.”

“I’m not alone. I have… Rodney.” John finished with a scowl and a lame wave up and down indicating McKay.

An indignant squawk from Rodney made John roll his eyes. “Well thanks a lot!”

When John pointed a warning finger at his nose to shut up, Rodney wisely clamped his mouth closed on whatever else he had been about to say.

“We’re going.” Ronon pushed Rodney ahead of him as he walked towards the Gate. With a smile, Teyla followed, leaving John to stare in dismay after his team. He wondered when he had lost control of the situation. This led to the disturbing realization that he probably never had control to begin with. He sighed and tromped after them, not certain if this made things better or worse. But a small part of him was grateful that his friends weren’t staying behind after all, that they had chosen him over Atlantis.

~*~

“Your people are insane.” Ronon growled as John crossed the commissary and joined his friends at the table, dropping his tray with a clatter. He slid onto an ugly, uncomfortable orange plastic chair beside Teyla.

Quiet and serene, as always, Teyla gave a barely perceptible nod of agreement at her lover’s pronouncement. She rubbed one hand over her rounded tummy and pointedly ignored the food on the plate in front of her. When John had settled himself and began to eat, she looked around the room and said in a low voice, “The people I spoke with keep referring to me as _keri_ , John. I do not understand.”

John went pale and grabbed Teyla’s hand, demanding in a rush, “Please tell me you told them Ronon is the baby’s father, that you’re married or joined or sworn or mated or something.”

“I told them that,” Ronon said, glaring at John.

“As did I. I saw no reason to lie; you know this is the truth. They seemed satisfied with the answer. I do not understand this. John, you are hurting my hand.” She looked down at where he was squeezing her hand so hard it was turning white.

“Sorry.” He dropped her hand and looked down at his plate. “I overreacted. If they thought you were unbonded, they might… there’re laws.” He sighed in irritation. “Our people have trouble with conception, and the laws are supposed to protect those that can breed, the _keri_ and the _panor_.”

“Surely laws meant to protect people are good?” She leaned towards him and ducked her head, trying to look up into his face, which he was making difficult by staring down into his lap as he spoke.

“The intent is good, but the execution is sometimes a bit harsh and extreme,” Rodney interjected.

John looked up, trying to affect a confident air as he said, “You should be fine. I’m sorry I worried you. You told them the right thing. They won’t take you away from Ronon, not if you’re bonded, not if they think you’re bonded.” Beneath the table, his hands were shaking in his lap. Things had gotten worse in the years he had been away in Pegasus, according to the information he’d been able to gather since coming back to Star Gate Operations.

“They round people up?” Ronon asked suspiciously, getting to the crux of the matter quickly. People often underestimated the big man’s intelligence, though John prided himself on the fact that he never had, not once, since meeting Ronon.

Pushing his food aside, his appetite gone, Sheppard nodded. “It started a little over fifty years ago, when there was an invasion here. It was a rough time to grow up, according to my mom. We got some help from a race known as the Jirante, as well as a few other races we had met during the early years of the Star Gate program, when it was run out of Area 51.”

Picking up the tale, as Sheppard took a few breaths to collect his thoughts, Rodney filled in quickly, “Mass destruction, death, battles, plague. The result, after the big uglies were driven off, was a single world ruling body, the Earth United Government. It wasn’t until a few years afterwards that the full extent of the plagues became clear. Some of the weapons they used affected the survivor's genetics. The vast majority of our people were sterile after the plagues. The Jirante had tests to identify those still capable of procreation; their geneticists intervened for our own good. The fertile segment of our population is divided in two, the more common _panor_ , which means protector in Jirante, and the _keri_ , which translates as ‘life bearer’ in Jirante.”

When Teyla nodded in understanding, Rodney continued, “There are stiff punishments for crimes committed against any _keri_. They are expected to stay home and safe at all times. The _keri_ and _panor_ are technically not supposed to serve in combat situations, though exceptions are made, in some cases.”

“You cannot have children?” Teyla asked, looking from Rodney to John with sadness in her eyes as her hand instinctively moved over the gentle swell of her belly.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, sure, I can. I'm _panor_ , but I was deemed mission essential, so I was allowed to go and take Katie with me, Katie is second generation _keri_.” Rodney shrugged and looked at John again, giving him an opening to speak up, but John remained silent, staring down into his lap, his shoulders stiff. His discomfort with the conversation was practically oozing off him. He didn’t look up, he couldn’t meet their eyes.

“What is the difference between _keri_ and _panor_? I am still a bit unclear on this.” Teyla was fascinated by the conversation and leaned towards Rodney. “We have known you for three years. We have traveled between planets and met many different people, and yet you have never given us any indication of such a fundamental difference in the way our two peoples reproduce.”

“Doctor Beckett could explain this better with his medical mumbo jumbo and charts and graphs and such, but it basically boils down to the chemical bonding process that happens at conception. _Keri_ have one set of the chemicals necessary and _panor_ have the other.”

Ronon pulled a face, the one he made when he felt that Rodney was talking down to them “Male and female, we all learned that in school.”

“No, not exactly. The _keri_ in the pairing can be either male or female, so can the _panor_.” Rodney looked over at John and rolled his eyes, pausing and then finally waggling his hand limply at John and then at Ronon and Teyla, indicating that John should speak up. “John, don’t you have something to tell Teyla and Ronon?”

John sighed heavily and said, “I’m _keri_. I’m only on the Atlantis mission because I also have the ATA gene, which trumps sperm and egg counts. At least it did three years ago when I left. Things are different now. The laws have changed.”

“This is the trouble you feared?” Ronon looked to Rodney, who nodded.

“They don’t want to let him go back. Never mind that he’s proved himself over and over again capable of taking care of himself and others and is not in need of a _panor_ for protection, they want to yank him and force him to get hitched.”

“But you are a man. Surely, you do not need to remain here in order to do your duty.” Teyla looked confused as she stared at John, who was blushing.

“I’m _keri_ ,” he whispered, staring down at his trembling hands. “I’m not supposed to be roaming free without a _panor_ ; I’m supposed to be kept away somewhere under lock and key, waiting to donate my genetic material to the good cause.”

Rodney waited to see if Sheppard would explain further, but he’d clammed up. “It’s not so simple. The Jirante’s method of helping was a bit radical. Sex is not a factor in breeding like it used to be. Any human still capable of breeding was given a treatment, and it changed them…”

“I was a normal guy until I was twelve, then they got their hands on me, now I’m _keri_.” When he looked up at his friends, they saw a rare mix of shame, pain and humiliation cross John’s face before he ducked his head again and schooled his features back to normal.

Taking pity on his friend, Rodney said quietly, “The _keri_ are capable of conception with either sex, with whomever they are bonded to, male or female.”

“That’s so fucked up,” Ronon grunted.

John crinkled his nose and told his friend, “You spend too much time with the marines and seals, they’re corrupting you. You’re starting to talk like them.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that this is royally fucked up.”

“Welcome to my life,” John chuckled sardonically and sat back in his chair, running both hands through his hair, making it stand up even more crazily than usual.

“Do you not wish to be a father?” Teyla asked him. “Surely you could do your social duty outside the bonding ritual?”

Sheppard blushed again before he answered, “I prefer the company of men. I mean I really prefer the company of men.”

“Oh. OH!” Teyla said with a gasp as she finally caught on.

“Exactly. And I haven’t found anyone I’m willing to commit to at that level. Nothing personal Teyla, but I really, really, really don’t have any desire to go through what you’re going through. Ever.” John picked up a roll off his tray and began to tear it into tiny pieces with visibly shaking hands.

“But they would force you? Are they able to do that?” Teyla grabbed John’s hand and gave it a supportive squeeze.

“They can. He’s _keri_. He has fewer rights than a cocker spaniel,” Rodney snarled.

“Thanks Rodney. Arf, arf,” Sheppard replied, infusing the barks with sarcasm.

“You know what I mean.”

John nodded sadly and shrugged. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“We need to find you a husband, one that doesn’t want to make babies.” Ronon grinned as John looked up at him with an exasperated groan.

“I don’t want one, and a bonded _keri's_ spouse is called a _panor'eten_ here on Earth.”

Rodney agreed with Ronon, pointing at him as he said, “He’s right, you need one.”

“Okay, I’ve had enough talking about this for today, possibly forever. Could we never mention it again? I have to go be debriefed by Vice Secretary Hammond and Marshal O’Neill about the Wraith and how Ford woke them up and cursed Pegasus before he died." There was at least an hour before that meeting was scheduled, but John had been embarrassed enough for one day. He threw his chair back, scooped up his tray and stormed out of the nearly empty commissary.

“I was going about things in the wrong way,” Teyla mused, stirring her tea. “When we were home, I kept trying to find him a sweet Athosian woman to keep company with; I thought he needed a wife.”

“He needs a husband,” Ronon grunted, and bit into his roll. He watched with concern as his friend fled the commissary as if every Wraith in the galaxy were hot on his heels.

 


	2. Keri Rebels

Commodore Cameron Mitchell gave a sigh and reached for the next file folder on the pile before him, grateful it was one of the last. His new assignment had come with twenty seven Air Services officers, forty three Naval Services operatives and two hundred and fifty nine Ground Services personnel attached to the mission, all on special detachment from their home branches to the Star Gate Operations division of the Earth United Government. He had been reading for over six hours and his eyes were going a bit crossed. He supposed he should count himself lucky. He didn't have to read through all the dossiers on the Science and Support Division personnel for the Atlantis Expedition. He only had to go through those of the heads of the various departments, and only in a cursory manner in order to familiarize himself with the duties of the staff.

He had asked his yeoman to sort the files in reverse rank order. He had been fully energized and gung-ho when he had started his review with the enlisted personnel. He hoped that when he got to the bottom of the pile, the more interesting histories of the senior personnel would keep him from nodding off at his desk.

"Ok, let's see what you've been up to, Major Lorne." Mitchell opened the file and glanced down at the handsome face of the Atlantis Expedition's Senior Operations Officer.

“Pilot. Well, that stands to reason - Air Services.” Mitchell was getting mildly punch drunk from information overload.

“Gold Merit Sunburst for meritorious action, four times?” What in the hell had little Evan Lorne been doing with himself since Cam had last seen him? Apparently, from his record, saving Atlantis, his Commandant and Earth several times over. Mitchell let out a whistle as he read, though he was a bit confused by some of the unfamiliar mission details. He had decided to save the bulk of the mission reports from the Expedition for another day’s project, and so most of the notations from various Atlantis missions went over his head. Like every other officer of rank at the SGO, he was passing familiar with the most notorious of the exploits of the expedition, but not everything of importance happened on the missions “everyone” had heard about.

Cam had to put the file down after a bit, as his mind was reeling slightly from what he had read about his former trainee. He reached to the table behind him and grabbed the coffee carafe, poured himself a fresh cup and gulped down half of the tepid brew in a few quick swallows. Lorne had been one of Mitchell’s trainees at the Air Services Flight Academy, damn, had it really been fifteen years ago? Lorne had been a scrappy fighter then, always having to prove himself, he was in and out of trouble for skirmishes for the first two years of training before something or someone had happened to set the young man right. He had buckled down and earned his stripes during his last three years at the Academy. Flipping back through the record, Mitchell saw commendation after commendation from his previous Administrators, Commandants and field officers. If Lorne continued on at this level of performance; he was a shoe-in to make Commander’s rank by the time he turned thirty in two years and quite likely would be a Commodore by forty. Knowing he was missing subtle details without familiarizing himself with the first three year’s worth of mission reports from Atlantis, Mitchell set Lorne’s file aside, along with those of Doctor McKay, Radek Zelenka, Lieutenant Laura Cadman and two Pegasus natives named Teyla Emmagen and Ronon Dex. He would read them all later, after he had been through the actual mission report pile. He gave that waiting pile a glance, knowing he was going to be stuck at this desk for the foreseeable future.

He flipped open the last file, Sub Commander John Sheppard, the acting head of the Atlantis military contingent for the past three years. He had yet to meet the man, but he had heard plenty of rumors. Sheppard was fodder for gossip. An unbonded, unmated _keri_ in a position of high authority, with unmated _panor_ serving under his command? It was unheard of in this day and age. There were rumors that the man had been frequently cited for insubordination. His record noted several incidences of orders disobeyed, and a somewhat careless disregard for proper military protocols. This all painted a picture of an officer that had no right to be in a position of authority, and yet, he was.

“Cold eyes,” Mitchell mumbled, looking at the file photo, taken just before the expedition had departed, noting the non-regulation hair cut; too long.

Mitchell noticed that Sheppard was good looking, extremely so. He wondered how he had remained unbonded at his age? “Must be a real jerk,” Mitchell decided. Though he himself had never been in a committed relationship, or involved with a _keri_ , Cameron thought that he would never put up with a _keri_ that disobeyed his orders, or had a fresh mouth, or was unresponsive to his physical and emotional needs. This Sheppard must be severely lacking in the personality department.

Sub Commander Sheppard was never been meant to be in the military chain of command for the expedition; he was supposed to be part of Elizabeth Weir’s department. He was attached to the science department, sent along because of his genetics and the abilities they granted him with Ancient tech.

Sheppard, a mere administrator, had been the ranking SGO officer when Commodore Marshal Sumner, the mission’s original Commandant, and his executive officer, Sub Commander Aedin Ford - a rising superstar of Star Gate Operations - were killed. According to the reports left by Weir the Atlantis Overseer, Sheppard had reluctantly taken command of the military and had somehow managed to keep almost eighty percent of the original forces alive to report back when contact with Earth was finally reestablished. _Keri_ or not, Sheppard had something going for him, something that merited further examination.

Flipping to the pertinent section of the personnel record, Cam read through the little it contained about Sheppard’s family. Privileged background, his father had money, another surprise. Cam read through the little it contained about Sheppard's family background. Sheppard's mother Rosalind had tested out with the gene, and thus her two sons, John and David, had both been registered under the Defensive Genetic Act of 1976 as potential _keri_. Their second father, Patrick, had apparently gone to court to get custody of the boys upon the death of Rosalind’s _panor’eten_ when John had been fourteen and adopted the boys to raise as his own sons.

Interesting. It seemed the Sheppard family had a history of rebelling against rules.

Both Sheppard boys had been sent to private schools on the East Coast of the old United States. John’s school records showed high marks, especially in mathematics and science. A full scholarship to MIT and several Polytechnic Institutes were notated on his High School record, but Sheppard opted for the Air Services Academy, despite having a clearance document to study science if he chose to. A strange choice, a very strange choice for an unbonded _keri_ , not unheard of, but definitely unusual, to choose the military. The regulations about what fields of study a _keri_ could enter were a mine field to navigate, most never bothered trying for a post secondary school degree. The fields a _keri_ could work in were few, and very few employers would hire one.

Finding out that Sheppard had more education than normally allowed for a _keri_ made Mitchell wonder if John Sheppard had more than a secret or two up his sleeve. Perhaps he was not exactly what he appeared to be. The sordid dramatic plots of several recent popular flicks came to mind, where a poor lost _keri_ languished away, unable to be properly claimed by the _panor_ that loved him or her. Cam snorted. He was really tired, his imagination was running rampant. He sat back and closed his eyes for a few minutes before returning to his perusal of Sheppard’s file.

The _keri_ had put his time in and risen through the ranks. None of his previous commanding officers could find fault with Sheppard’s piloting abilities. He was, according to every notation in the file, exceptional behind the stick. He also seemed to work well with the scientific departments of SGO, Mitchell saw that there were several transfer assignments to various labs and outposts over the years, interspersed between Air Service duties.

Sheppard seemed to have a mildly suicidal streak, there were several notations made by Elizabeth Weir, Rodney McKay and Doctor Carson Beckett on the Sub Commander’s file alluding to the fact. Filing that tidbit away, Mitchell determined he would have to read through the Atlantis mission reports with an eye out for evidence that supported the notations. Sheppard was still in service, which proved that either these allegations were wrong, or that Sheppard was extremely good at fooling psychotherapists. Cam was not ready to discount either possibility.

“Commodore?” A light rapping on his door brought Cam’s attention up. A technician, one of the Atlantis people temporarily serving at SGO headquarters while the Atlantis Expedition was refit and re-supplied, stood in the doorway watching him nervously.

“Yes? Chuck, isn’t it?” Cam had a good memory for names, and he’d only just read the man’s file in the past hour. He waved him into the room.

Looking surprised to be called by name, Campbell nodded and walked in. He held out a datapad. “I just came from Personnel Resources, I was told to see you with this, sir.”

Mitchell took the pad but kept his eyes on Chuck’s face. “What is it?”

“My official request to be assigned to a Gate Team when the mission returns to Pegasus, I was told you would be the one to authorize it, sir.”

“Not happy in Operations?”

“It isn’t that, I would like to get out into the field, to do more, sir. I think I can offer more.” Chuck shuffled anxiously from foot to foot.

Reaching for the file he had only read a short time before, Cam opened it and glanced through Campbell’s records. He had adequate marks across the board for all Star Gate Operations primary mission requirements, but nothing truly outstanding. “What more do you have to offer, Chuck?”

The technician blushed and looked at his feet. “Engineering, sir.”

Cam flipped to the front page of the man’s dossier to double check what he thought he remembered. “You’re _keri_ , the hard sciences are verboten to _keri_.”

“My second father was a professor at a university in Ottowa, sir. He taught me.”

“Educating a _keri_ outside the system is illegal, Campbell. You know better than anyone that knowledge and training obtained illegally is inadmissible in any sanctioned governmental agency, including SGO,” Cam kept his voice neutral, he wanted to see how the man responded. He sensed a little bit of Sheppard’s influence at work here. If Sheppard could rise in the ranks, then perhaps other _keri_ could as well. This man had spent three years serving with Sheppard in Pegasus, surely that had something to do with this?

Chuck scuffed his toe on the floor and it seemed like he was about to bolt, but then he took a deep breath and looked Cam in the eye. “Doctor McKay says the Education Bylaws are a step back to the dark ages and that the Council is throwing away centuries of progress by forbidding an entire subset of our species our basic rights,” Chuck blushed and added quietly, “Sir.” He looked at his feet as he said, “Doctor McKay said I’m not entirely useless.”

With a soft smile, Mitchell sat back in his chair and simply looked at the tech. Sheppard’s influence, perhaps, but McKay’s as well. “Not useless, eh? High praise, indeed, coming from Doctor McKay,” Mitchell commented, and thumbed down through the screen on the data pad. The request came with recommendations, not only from McKay, but from Sheppard, Lorne and Zelenka, all rephrasing the same thing in different ways, “Chuck Campbell is uniquely qualified for Gate Team duties.” Another unbonded _keri_ on the loose in Pegasus? Cameron Mitchell decided he might have rocks in his head, but he signed off on the request and handed it to Chuck.

“Your case is unique, Campbell. When the expedition returns to Pegasus, the configuration of the Gate Teams will be assessed and you’ll be assigned at that time. Until then, keep this quiet, I am not ready to become a figurehead for spearheading _keri_ rights here at Star Gate Operations, is that understood, Technician Campbell?”

Chuck looked at him with wide eyes, smiled down at the approved request in his hands and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Dismissed.” Cam hoped he hadn’t just made a big mistake.

 


	3. Alternative Solutions

“So, I heard.” Without knocking, McKay stormed into the tiny cubicle of an office John Sheppard had been assigned at SGO Cheyenne Mountain Headquarters upon his return from Atlantis.

“Heard what?”

Rodney McKay dropped into the hard backed chair across from Sheppard’s desk, dropped his laptop onto the desktop and flipped it open. “We have a cease-fire, SGO and EUG Military Directive Committee came to an agreement.” Trust Rodney to have feelers out for information far ahead of the official word through proper channels.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make Sheppard work for it. He prodded his friend with a roll of his hand as Rodney began typing away on the laptop. “And?”

“Oh, well, we’re going back. The Atlantis Expedition is a go, officially, with sanctioning from both sides. SGO got their way; it is still a military expedition with science team backup, instead of the other way around.”

John’s heart sank. If it had been the other way around, there had been a chance he might go back, but now? “Did you find out who they gave command to?”

“Commodore Cameron Mitchell. Has ties to O’Neill and the original Abydos Expedition team, a real golden boy, according to the rumor mill.” Rodney was engrossed in whatever he was reading and didn’t see Sheppard’s forlorn expression at his words, a high ranking Commodore, one linked to the Abydos Team? This guy was elite. John didn’t stand a chance in hell of going home now, of going home to Pegasus. In fact he’d be lucky if he was allowed to go home to his brother’s house in Maryland. He dropped his head onto his folded arms as Rodney typed away and chattered over him. “Yup, he’s the real deal, Hero of the Battle of Antarctica, killer of Goa’uld, expert at infiltration and ass kicking, ace pilot; your kind of guy, actually.”

“Right, ‘cause all the shiny brass just love little old me,” John mumbled into his arms miserably.

Either oblivious to his friend’s state or ignoring it - one could never be sure with McKay - he kept talking, “Ah, okay, I’ve got a copy of the report SGO sent to the Military Defense Council this morning. It says here that Lorne got another stripe, one more he makes Sub Commander, he’s still SOO for the Expedition. Huh, so did Lieutenants Markham and Stackhouse. Cadman got a full grade promotion to Captain. They’re all going back.” Rodney pulled a face at that, he and Cadman had never gotten along. “Weir’s been given a posthumous decoration for valor and service by the Scientific Oversight Council in Stockholm. How nice, they can carve it on her memorial stone, I’m sure her family will take such consolation in it.”

At the mention of Weir, John’s stomach clenched, he hadn’t been able to save her. It had been his shot that had killed her when the Genii commander, Cowen, had fed her to a wraith and left her to die. He had pulled the trigger as an act of mercy. If he had known, if he had only known how dangerous the stupid pretty little planet with the quaint little farmers had actually been, he would have done so many things differently. He would have fought Doctor Weir on her decision to go there, on her insistence that she go there personally. But like so many things in Pegasus, what had at first seemed innocuous had turned out to be deadly. John had chosen that battle poorly, and Elizabeth had paid the price.

“So, does it say when they’re shipping me off to Quantico?” The decommissioned former FBI training facility served as a minimum security prison for EUG military prisoners, and John had been expecting transport to Virginia since the moment he had set foot through the Gate with the rest of the Expedition.

“Huh? What?” Rodney finally looked up at him, confusion on his face.

John sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes with one hand. “I wonder if I’m even going to get a trial. I haven’t gotten any kind of notices of hearings. I guess the MPs will just show up, cuff me and haul me off.”

“Sheppard, what are you on about?”

Rodney forgot, so often. It made John happy to be treated as an equal. It was one of the reasons he considered McKay to be his best friend; he had always been more than a _keri_ to the scientist, just as John never thought of McKay as _panor_. “McKay, what I did, for ill or naught, was technically illegal.”

“Sumner was dead. You were the ranking officer.”

“I’m _keri_. Lorne should have been the one…”

“Lorne didn’t. He couldn’t lead from an infirmary bed. It took three months for him to get back on his feet when we got him back from the Wraith. You could lead and you did. You did what had to be done, John.”

“Still.”

“Idiot.” McKay hit a few keys on his laptop, cleared his throat and began to read, “Sub Commander John Sheppard, in the opinion of SGO General Council, should remain with the Atlantis Expedition in his current role as Military Commander. To radically alter the command structure by appointing another officer at this time would be a detriment to the Atlantis Expedition.” McKay looked up at Sheppard’s startled face. “That’s signed by Marshal Jack O’Neill himself. That hardly sounds like an extradition order to Quantico, now does it, you doofus?”

“No jail?”

“No jail.”

“I’m going back?”

McKay gave a deep sigh. “Yes, John, you’re going back.”

Relieved, Sheppard sank back in his chair and stared at his friend for a full minute before a broad smile crossed his face. “I’m going home.”

“We’re all going home, flyboy. Now, do you want to hear what they said about me?”

John nodded slowly, but he ignored most of what Rodney rattled on about, making occasional grunts of assent or saying ‘uh-huh’ when McKay paused and looked at him for some kind of response. He knew the reports would all be glowing and raving over McKay’s genius, why wouldn’t they? McKay had saved all their asses a number of times.

“There is something though,” McKay looked up at him nervously after he finished reciting the list of new commendations on his file.

“What?”

“I think the EUG Committee representative is pressuring them to force you into bonding, before they’ll let you go back.” McKay blushed and looked steadily at his screen.

“Damn it!” John swore and ran a hand through his hair. He’d been afraid of this. Being forced to take a _panor’eten_ had been a concern second only to the threat of jail.

Rodney still wasn’t looking at him as he said in a rush, “We talked about it, John, I'm _panor_ , I’m willing. We need you there…”

“No, Rodney, I can’t let you. It wouldn’t be fair to any of us, to you especially, and it would be cruel to Katie, I won’t let you set her aside to take a second. Your friendship means too much to me to risk hurting you that way, by coming between you and Katie,” John shook his head in refusal.

“She’d understand, it would be in name only.”

John slashed his hands through the air. “No. I wouldn’t tolerate it before, I won’t now. I’m not enslaving myself to someone, just because some bureaucrats say I have to.”

“It wouldn’t be like that, John,” Rodney protested, “You have to know it wouldn’t be, I would never treat you badly.”

“You don’t understand, Rodney. I’m all I have. Me. I might have a crappy situation, and my rights might be for shit, but I’m still my own, so long as I stay unbonded.”

McKay was watching him with sadness in his eyes. “You’re right, I don’t understand. Katie is happy, we’re happy; we have a good life together. She does her thing, I do mine.”

“I’m not Katie. I want more.”

“You can’t have more, John. Face it, you’re _keri_ , you’ll always be _keri_ , you cannot change that. Why not take the best situation you can get? Have some semblance of a family of your own?”

He couldn’t understand. John had never been able to make Rodney see why it meant so much to him. He snorted and shook his head. “By stealing someone else’s _panor’eten_ ? Not exactly a great foundation for a familial relationship with Katie, McKay.”

“She understands.”

“Does she? Does she really, or does she say what you want to hear because she’s been conditioned to strive to do anything to make you happy and keep her place secure? She’s a perfect little _keri_. Katie is sweet and I love her like a little sister Rodney, but she is a product of the system.”

Rodney chewed his lip and looked away, thinking over what John had said, and not liking the picture John was painting.

“Trust me, McKay, I’m sure Katie would be content keeping your house and staying home and making little Rodneys, she’s that type. I’m not. I never have been. I need to be out there, doing stuff. I don’t have the conditioning or the temperament to be someone’s body slave or brood mare.”

“You make it sound so sordid, so distasteful, you always have.” Rodney crossed his arms and stared at his friend with a sour look on his face.

Sheppard nodded. “It is, to me. An accident of birth and genetics and I am automatically less qualified to do… anything. Anything except breed for, breed with and service my betters.”

The scientist’s sharp intake of breath was loud in the silence following John’s harshly spoken words. His voice was uncharacteristically soft and small as he said, “I’ve never treated you like that.”

Regretting his tone, if not the words themselves, John reached over the desk and grasped Rodney’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “No. No, you haven’t. And that is important to me, it is really very important to me. But the facts are the facts. I’m _keri_.”

“You’re John Sheppard.”

“So long as I’m unbonded, I am.”

Rodney’s eyes were troubled as he digested the truth of John’s words. “Then what will you do? SGO’s Command Council is going to force the issue.”

John shrugged. “I’ll sue for a grant of time. It might buy me a year before they recall me. I’ve filed emancipation paperwork with the court, to get me loose of SGO and keep them from butting into my mating status. My lawyer doesn’t think it will fly, but I had to make the attempt.”

“Then what?”

John’s slim shoulders heaved up and down once more and he stared at the ceiling. “Then maybe I’ll run. I’ll put the Pegasus galaxy between me and Quantico.”

“And a million Wraith.”

“And a million Wraith,” John agreed with a resigned smile.

~*~

Major Evan Lorne steeled himself outside the Commodore's door, taking a deep breath before knocking briskly. He hadn’t seen the man in fifteen years, he didn’t know if Mitchell was the same person anymore, or if time had hardened him.

This had seemed like a good idea, when he and David had come up with it. It had still seemed feasible later when they brought it to Rodney, Teyla and Beckett and talked about it. The speech in his head had made sense. Now it seemed weird to be asking Mitchell for his participation.

At the muffled “come in” Lorne pushed open the door and walked in with as much dignity as he could muster, given his self-appointed mission.

He was here to beg.

“Lorne!” Commodore Mitchell stood as Evan entered and held a hand out, his smile genuinely welcoming. Evan let the breath he’d been holding out slowly as he shook Mitchell’s hand; he was still the open and friendly guy Lorne remembered. “I’ve been hoping you’d stop in before long, sit, sit.”

“Good to see you, sir.” Evan carefully sat on the edge of the chair and regarded his former flight instructor. The years had been good to Cameron Mitchell, only some slight graying at his temples and a few laugh lines around his eyes showed his age, but overall, he still looked remarkably good.

Sitting back behind the desk, Mitchell waved at the array of folders and data pads strewn there. “I’m still up to my ears in mission briefs and personnel files. I have to hand it to you though, you kept good records. Sub Commander Sheppard was lucky to have you as his SOO.”

“I make a better Administrator than a Commander,” Lorne admitted. “I’ve seen his job, and I don’t particularly want it, sir.”

That provoked a chuckle from Mitchell. “Judging by the field reports of what’s out there in Pegasus, I don’t really blame you. So, how are you, Evan?” Mitchell folded his hands on the stack of papers in front of him and regarded Evan steadily.

Lorne almost shifted under the intense regard. He’d forgotten that about Mitchell, how he could stare right through a person. “I’m well, sir.”

“Happily bonded?” Mitchell was probably asking for form’s sake, he had Lorne’s records and should already have the answer.

“Four years, sir.”

“A botanist, right? Isn‘t that how you ended up on the mission at the last minute?”

“Yes, lucky us. Doctor Milsovic got sick and David was called in as an alternate for the expedition. Otherwise, we never would have gone along.”

“Planning on children?” Mitchell had picked up a stylus and was tapping it on the desktop.

With a shrug, Lorne smiled. “Hopefully someday, we’ve got a fund. The costs have come down on the Jildare tech, but the procedure and growth chamber time are still prohibitively expensive. The hazard pay and combat zone pay we earned last time out in Pegasus put us a few years closer. Another stint puts us in reach.”

Cam nodded and gave Evan a knowing smile. Before Earth had encountered the friendly and scientifically advanced Jildare back in the early sixties, humanity had been facing population extinction within a few generations. Now, thanks to the technology of the Jildare, couples having fertility problems, or those that could afford it could procreate exvitro, and the fetus could gestate outside the body of the _keri_.

“I’ve got a fund of my own,” Mitchell admitted when Evan started to shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Really? Are you bonded, sir?” Lorne asked with concern. If he were, it put a damper on his plan. Lorne had thought the rumor mill had said Mitchell was unattached, if he had a partner, he wouldn’t go for this, no matter how much Evan prostrated himself before him.

~*~

“Drop the sir, at least in private Evan; we’re going to be working together. Just call me Cam. And I’m not bonded. I haven’t found anyone I care to spend the rest of my life with just yet.” He’d come close, once, a long time ago, when he’d been young and foolish. But Amy Vanderberg had run off and eloped with the captain of the debate team after graduation and he had never seen her again. Since then he had learned a few things about himself that probably made that a blessing, but for a long time he had been hurt.

Evan settled back in the seat a bit, but his back was still ramrod stiff. “If you’re sure, sir, uh, Cam.”

“I’m sure. There’s damned few people on this base that won’t “sir” me to death, I don’t need it or want it from my senior staff.” Mitchell dropped the stylus on the desk and gave Evan that knowing stare again. “So, what brings you to my door today?”

“Uhm,” Lorne hummed and looked at the ceiling.

The Commodore looked at him curiously, with one eyebrow raised, waiting patiently for Lorne to spit it out. When Evan stalled, looking at his new commanding officer helplessly, Mitchell prompted, “Uhm, what uhm?”

He spoke in a rush, “Well, it’s like this, it’s actually a personal matter and, well, I hoped you’d be amenable to hearing me out before you kick my ass out of here and buck me down to janitor at Area 51.”

With an amused smirk, Cameron leaned back, crossed his arms, and nodded. From the amount of squirming Lorne was doing, this promised to be good.

“I assume you’ve heard about Sub Commander Sheppard’s legal issues?”

Had he ever! Mitchell was torn between disapproval at the _keri_ ’s brashness and admiration for the man’s determination to hold onto his status, despite the overwhelming legal battle he was waging. “I have. I’ve been following the case in the media, what little has been let out to Netnews. The man is the head of my military, after all.”

“You see, we think you might be able to help him.” Evan shuffled forward in his chair and leaned towards Mitchell, an imploring look coming into his eyes. “It isn’t going well. My father is on the Board of Hearings, and he told me Sheppard doesn’t have a majority vote.”

“His stay is going to be denied.”

“Yes, sir.”

Cameron let the sir slide this time. “Poor bastard.” This did not bode well for any of them. Based on everything Mitchell had learned about the man, if Sheppard was forced into a bond before being allowed to ship off to Atlantis, there was a good chance it could ruin him. Mitchell wanted the man that had brought back 80% of the expedition with him when he stepped through that Gate to Pegasus in a few weeks, not a burnt out, defeated, force bonded _keri_. Mitchell, like many of his peers saw force bonding as akin to rape. But the law was the law, despite the efforts of those like John Sheppard to change it. The _keri_ , so few in number and so necessary for the continuation of the species, needed to be protected, at least in the eyes of the global government. Curiosity made him ask, “You said we?”

“Beckett, McKay, and I. We think maybe you might be in a position to help John.”

John. Not Sub Commander. Not Sheppard, but John. The odd _keri_ had earned the friendship of the others. The friendship and the unofficial protection of three _panor_ , it seemed. “How?”

From the way Lorne was eyeing him, Mitchell knew, he just knew, what it was his new senior staff was suggesting. He held up a hand to forestall Evan saying the words, he needed a moment to think about it. “I haven’t even met the man; he’s been off base dealing with his legal issues.”

“There’s a stipulation in the law, my father pointed it out to me. It isn’t often used, since most _keri_ are usually content with the whole bonding process, and so few go against the grain. It allows a trial, a period of adjustment, before an actual bonding takes place. A contract bonding. It was put in place to shield wealthier _panor_ from predatory _keri_ families. Only a _panor_ can sue for this type of arrangement. And the _panor_ can call it off at the end of the contract.”

Lorne leaned forward in his seat. “He’s a good person, Cam. We need him on the mission. We need him as he is, whole and in control, not beaten down by the system.” Evan said quietly, not pleading, not yet. He opened the folder he had dropped onto the floor beside his chair when he came in and withdrew two photographs, handing them across the desk to Mitchell.

“Commodore Maybourne and Vice Secretary Landry, why show me their photos?” Mitchell asked as he looked down at the photographs he had picked up with curiosity.

“They are the two men that have been vetted and approved by the Council, one of them will be granted Sheppard’s bond when his stay of execution ends.”

Cam dropped the photos and slammed his hand down on the desk. “Landry has a _keri_ already, and Maybourne? Everyone knows Maybourne is a sadistic bastard!”

“John is my friend. I can’t sit back and just let this happen. This would break him.” Lorne pointed at the pictures in Cam’s hand. “Please, Commodore Mitchell, I know it is a lot to ask of anyone, but consider helping him.”

Quietly, Cam protested, “I don’t even know him.”

“Does it matter? It’s on paper, a contract for a year, and then you’re out, it isn’t a permanent bonding. He’ll be on your senior staff, in your chain of command anyway. John is proud and he can be a stubborn ass, I’m one of his best friends and I know this, good lord, how I know this. But once he gives his loyalty, he doesn’t sway, he doesn’t turn, he’s in. He's the fiercest, most protective _keri_ you'll ever meet.”

Desperate to find another avenue, Cam asked, “You’re his friends, surely McKay or Beckett could take him on? Or even you, as a second?”

With a low laugh, Evan shook his head. “Nope. Not our John. He won’t settle for second. McKay has tried, believe me, but Sheppard won’t have it. Beckett and McKay are both heterosexual, and Sheppard won’t settle. Honestly, I think, deep down, he’s a damned romantic at heart, though he’d never admit it. He won’t ‘poach’ someone else’s _panor'eten_ , not even a friend trying to help him.”

“He believes in the bond, in the family unit.” Cameron realized.

“As much as he fights against it, yes, I think so. He doesn’t say much about his past, but he’s let it slip that his mother and his second father were true bonds, a love match.”

Mitchell shook his head sadly as a few more pieces of the puzzle that was John Sheppard fell into place. “He won’t go for this, Evan. He’s got too much damned pride.”

“He does, but he might… he just might go along with this, Cam. He knows the alternative now; Maybourne or Landry. If he can’t get through that Gate to Pegasus, he can’t run, they’ll find him anywhere on this side and drag him home. He needs you to get him home.”

“He’s going to run? Evan, are you telling me straight out here and now that he’s planning to run?”

Evan sat back in his chair, eyeing the senior officer. He had just implicated all of them in a premeditated crime. If Mitchell agreed, and John did run, they were all complicit later, when they were dragged before the General Council, and thrown on the scanner for questioning. He had taken a huge, huge risk coming here and trusting Mitchell with this. But this was probably the only way to legally help Sheppard.

“He might not. If he was secure in Atlantis, we think he’d stay put. He loves that stupid city more than anything. More than flying.” Evan put the emphasis on the word flying, stressing it in a way that another Air Services officer would completely and totally understand.

Damn it. How could Cameron refuse? It was a simple thing, a temporary contract, and it would keep Sheppard out of the Council’s hands and safely in Atlantis for at least another three year stint. They could hardly open the wormhole for the express purpose of returning an errant _keri_ home when the contract was up. It would buy Sheppard three years of freedom. “Is he really a jerk?”

“No. Only sometimes, when it’s warranted, to people he doesn't like or trust.” At Mitchell’s wavering, Evan smiled. “Please?”

“I assume you have the paperwork?”

With a flourish, Evan’s hand moved and the legal documents landed in front of Cam.

“I might have to hate you for this, Lorne.”

~*~

“Evan, what have you done?” Sheppard demanded as Lorne sleepily opened the door to the insistent pounding summons and got a face full of papers waved angrily at him. “Councilor William Lorne, that’s your father, right? He signed off on this, this, this stuff!” John brushed past Evan and stomped into the small quarters he shared with David, now rising from the bed and rubbing his eyes as he blinked at Sheppard.

“Please calm down.” David said, attempting to sooth the highly ruffled Sub Commander. It wasn't often that John lost his composure, but when he did, the results could get... messy.

“You interfering busybody.” With a broad wave of his arm, Sheppard indicated Evan again and snarled at David, “Your _panor’eten_ is a meddler, that’s what he is!”

“It was for your own good,” David said mildly, yawning again and stretching his arms over his head. “Calm down, you’ll give yourself an aneurism or a stroke or something, that shade of red is troublesome, John.”

Spinning to stare open-jawed at David, John pointed back at Evan helplessly and then dropped his arms down and his chin to his chest and said in a soft voice, “You’ve ruined me. I really thought you were my friend, Evan.”

Reaching over and sliding his hands up John’s arms, Evan turned him and leaned over to look up into his face with a coaxing smile meant to sooth. “I am your friend. There wasn’t time to find you and tell you before the Council meeting. John, it was Maybourne. They were going to hand you over to Maybourne. When I heard that, when my father called to tell me the decision had been made, I had him file the papers.”

“Harold Maybourne?” John whispered and shuddered as Evan nodded. “But Evan…”

Lorne took the crumpled papers from John’s hand and shoved at him until he sat down on the bed beside David, who started patting John’s back consolingly. “Look, this was the best we could come up with. And it isn’t permanent.”

John let out a deep huff. “It is, if Commodore Mitchell decides to make it so when the term is up.”

“It gives you a year, John, a year of breathing room, in Atlantis. Likely the whole three year mission, you won't have to come back until the mission is recalled.”

John flopped back across the bed and covered his eyes with his arm. “Bonded to Mitchell.”

“A contract bond. Not a true bond,” David clarified with a smile.

Squinting up at the botanist, John shook his head and replied, “Not helping.”

“Sorry.” David reached to massage John’s arm, but Sheppard pulled it away and silently sulked. David rolled his eyes and sat back with a shrug and a helpless look at his partner.

“Cameron Mitchell’s not the worst you could end up with, John,” Evan said after a while.

“You guys are really not helping, it’s still a bond.”

“Maybourne - One _Keri_ Dead and a Second _Keri_ ‘Missing Under Mysterious Circumstances’ - Maybourne. ‘Buys Whips Chains and Straps by the Caseload’ Maybourne. Like it or not, Sheppard, we did help. You’re a stubborn ass and wouldn’t have any of your friends; I know Beckett and McKay both offered. You could hardly have filed for this kind of bond on your own. Commodore Mitchell was the only _panor_ with the status high enough to get this approved. Think about it.”

John was silent, considering Evan’s words. Eventually, he sighed and the tension went out of his body. Evan flopped down on the bed beside him and patted his arm. “It won’t be so bad. Keeping you happy is in Mitchell’s best interests.”

“I don’t even know him.”

Evan chuckled as John repeated the words Cam had said, in almost the exact same tone. “It’ll be all right, John. And you get to go home to Atlantis. No more legal fight, you’ll be protected by House Mitchell.”

Protected. John wasn’t sure if the thought made him want to scream or cry. Perhaps a little bit of both.

“I’m going to hate you for this before it’s over Evan.”


	4. Kissing Keri

“I got a message you were looking for me.” Lorne poked his head through Cameron’s open office door.

Cameron waved him in and motioned for Lorne to shut the door behind him. He gave him a look up and down, one eyebrow raised as he took in Lorne’s disheveled and mud coated appearance. The mud had a familiar iridescent quality that made Cam wince in sympathy. “P75-778? That’s gotta itch.”

“Like a mo… bear, sir. So, if you don’t mind…”

Cam held up an envelope and waved it. “Your plan, it isn’t going to work. I had a visit from that guy from the Office of Internal Affairs, Wooly.”

“Woolsey? The OIA? What did he say?” Lorne shuffled from foot to foot, the mud had slid down the gap at the back of his pants and was drying in a horribly uncomfortable place.

Mitchell sighed and pointed to the envelope, which he had dropped on the desk. “He intimated that I had ulterior motives for my petition.”

“Well, you do.”

“I do not. I’m helping out the friend of a friend here, there’s nothing ulterior about it. He also insinuated that due to the lack of ‘prior instances of male companionship’ in the background check the OIA did on me, that the claim is likely to be false; that I’m perpetrating this as a mere paper relationship. He actually brought up my financials and hinted I might be doing this for the money. He’s threatening to bring me and Sheppard up on charges for filing a false claim.”

Gripping the back of the chair in front of him, Lorne chewed his lower lip. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t think the OIA would get involved. I… we… never meant to cause you any trouble. I understand if you want to withdraw the claim and let this go.”

Cam smiled and sat back in his chair. “Hell no!”

“Sir?” Evan looked at his future commanding officer in confusion.

“It’s just getting interesting now! Momma Mitchell’s little boy never backed down from a challenge, or from a piece of pie either, but that’s beside the point. Someone somewhere is nervous about this. They sicced the OIA on this case. Probably Maybourne, I hear he’s mightily pissed off about Sheppard slipping through his fingers at the last minute.”

“You’re not dropping it?”

“Nope. I especially do not like the fact that my friends and family have been raked over the coals about my past romances. I’ve gotten eighteen emails from my family back in Kansas about the ‘official’ visits they’ve been getting this week. Someone declared war on Cam Mitchell, and I’ll be damned if I just walk away. My past romances are my business, no one else’s. Where I put my privates is private.” He crossed his arms and glared at the envelope on his desk.

Evan edged around the chair to stand in front of the fuming Mitchell. “Sir, if they put you on the scanner, if the OIA presses it, they’ll ask. You can’t lie to the scanner. If they ask if you prefer men…”

The _panor_ looked up, caught and held Lorne’s gaze. “Then I’ll answer them, no problem.”

“No problem?” Evan’s eyebrow went up.

Mitchell chuckled. “No. In fact, if you’d been a few years older, or I hadn’t been your flight instructor, you’d be up on the stand giving testimony to just how much I prefer men.”

Evan blushed and smirked. “I didn’t know that Cam.”

“I went out of my way to keep my personal stuff to myself. I still do. Don’t worry, Evan, I know you’re bonded. The past is the past; you are safely off my radar.”

“So, are you planning to talk to Sheppard soon? He’s back at the mountain, has been since yesterday morning,” Lorne changed the subject.

Something on his laptop beeped, drawing Mitchell’s attention momentarily. “Yes. I have every intention of doing just that. I’m waiting for the proper time.”

“Oh, and what would the proper time entail?”

“Maximum impact.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Tell Sheppard some stories of how I kicked ass in Flight School.”

Lorne wrinkled his nose. “You never kicked ass. Sir.”

“Aw, c’mon, a little white lie. Give the guy some confidence in my abilities to make this work.” Cam tried to keep the wheedling tone out of his voice, but suspected he failed when Lorne just shot him a condescending look and rolled his eyes. “Please?”

“I’ll think of something. Now, my butt itches, I need to shower. Sir.”

“Go on; get your smelly P75 muddy butt out of my office.”

~*~

Rodney sat down heavily in the chair across from Sheppard and dropped his forehead to the table, ignoring the tray he had pushed aside in order to do so. Rodney dismissing food was a sign of distress. Or the apocalypse. Or both. Sheppard reached over and patted his friend’s head in what he hoped was a consoling manner.

“There, there, Rodney. What’s wrong? Did someone set the self destruct on the base again?” John knew that wasn’t likely, he’d have heard klaxons by now if anything were _seriously_ wrong.

“Katie’s pressuring me about the baby thing again.”

“Oh. You said you wanted to go off and make little genius babies. That’s why you bonded yourself up with a _keri_ in the first place.” John sat back, picked up his coffee cup and regarded McKay with slightly a less sympathetic air than he’d had when the conversation started. He and Rodney chafed when it came to matters of _keri_ and _panor_ , which is why the subject was usually avoided at all costs.

“The theory and the practicum are two entirely different things. I love Katie, I really do, but she is driving me crazy already with what she can and can’t do, and my medical issues and how the baby might be affected by everything, and she’s gotten clingy and doesn’t want to be by herself, ever.” Rodney’s voice was muffled as he spoke into the tabletop. “Maybe I should just let her go home to her parents.”

Ronon dropped onto the seat beside Rodney, gave the scientist the once-over and then looked to John. “Is the base going to explode?”

“No. Rodney’s going to be a daddy.”

“Cool.” Ronon reached for the pudding cup on the seemingly abandoned tray in front of McKay.

“Touch that and you get cold showers from now until eternity.”

“What’d he say?” Ronon’s hand hovered over the pudding cup as he looked to Sheppard for a translation of the muffled words.

“I’d leave his pudding alone.”

Rodney’s voice was still muffled by his arms as he spoke into the tabletop. “I’m not going to be a daddy anytime soon, Sheppard is exaggerating.”

“What’d he say Sheppard?”

“That I’m a liar.”

John was alerted to the approach of someone coming up behind him by the flicker of Ronon’s eyes over John’s shoulder. There was no tensing of the warrior’s body, no reach down to his hip for his blaster (currently missing as it was locked in a safe in the armory) and no change in his posture, so John guessed that it was probably a friendly face from Atlantis.

He heard quick footsteps, tilted his head to listen to the cadence and identified for himself that it was Lorne a few moments before Evan’s hand grasped his upper arm and his SOO’s voice grumbled in his ear. “I need to talk to you.”

“Good morning to you too, Major. A fine lovely morning. And how was your mission to Mud World?”

“We’ve got a problem.” Lorne ignored the false sunshine in Sheppard’s greeting.

John tipped his chin towards the empty chair beside him. Lorne noticed McKay, still with his head pillowed on his folded arms, mumbling forlornly at the tabletop, his untouched tray in front of him. Evan reached into his pocket and drew out his cell phone and waved it. “Should I call David? How long before the base explodes?”

“Wise ass. Leave my pudding alone. I’m getting to it.” McKay lifted his head and slapped Evan’s hand away from the tray.

Placing the cell phone on the table, Lorne said quietly, “There’s been an official investigation launched into the Commodore’s contract petition by the OIA.”

“The who?” Ronon asked.

“The Office of Internal Affairs,” McKay muttered, resting his chin on one hand and reaching for his breakfast tray, which was more of a brunch tray, since it was nearly noon.

John frowned, put down his coffee cup and crossed his arms, giving Lorne his undivided attention. He’d been pretty annoyed about this whole plan at first, but had come to realize that the trial bonding was probably the least offensive way out of his current predicament. “Someone is muddying the waters.”

“Big time, they’re questioning Mitchell’s sexuality, investigating his financials, doing invasive background checks on him, basically calling him a liar,” Evan replied, annoyance in his voice.

The Satedan shrugged his shoulders. “So what?”

“Investigator Woolsey has threatened Commodore Mitchell with formal charges, both of you, actually, for filing a false claim. I tried to get him to retract the petition, but Mitchell is a bit of a stubborn ass.”

“Is he now?” John drawled. “Fine time to tell me.”

“You're evenly matched. Oh, I should probably disclose that he’s the roughest rough rider there is, a super duper pilot, possesses a magic golden penis, found Excalibur, is Captain Fantastic and in his spare time, he walks on water and saves kittens from trees,” Evan rattled off, ticking his fingers as he went. He shrugged as he took in Sheppard’s expression. “I told him you wouldn't believe me.”

Sheppard loved his chief administrator, he truly did. Even at the worst moments, Lorne could make him laugh. He patted his friend’s shoulder. “Woolsey, he’s the skinny one with very little hair and a face like a ferret?”

“Yeah, that sure sounds like the guy I met the other day,” McKay grumbled around a mouthful of food, having tucked into his meal with gusto, now that someone else’s problem was bigger than his own.

“Here he comes.” Sheppard raised his coffee cup to his lips and adopted his best “Nothing-to-see-here-just-keep-going” face and an unconcerned slouch. It didn’t work; Woolsey marched straight up to the table.

“Sub Commander Sheppard.”

“Investigator Richard Woolsey, I presume?”

The paper pusher seemed mildly thrown by Sheppard’s greeting. “Yes, indeed. I have a few questions I need to ask you, a matter of some importance regarding some paperwork that has been filed.”

“Pull up a chair, Mister Woolsey. I don’t keep secrets from my team.” He looked around the table and smiled at three of his best friends, his chosen family.

“I’d prefer to do this somewhere less public, Sub Commander, if you please, not in a fully packed commissary.”

It WAS rather crowded; John realized as he surveyed the room. There weren’t any open seats, in fact.

“I suppose I can meet with you this afternoon,” John drawled, pulling out his cell phone and lazily scrolling through his schedule. He knew his afternoon was free, and it was probable that Woolsey knew it as well; it was easy enough to check on.

Annoyed that Sheppard wasn’t dropping everything on his behalf, Woolsey tapped his foot and ground out between clenched teeth, “Yes, 3pm, the auxiliary conference room on Level 26. Please do not be late.” He turned and strode away.

John gave a jaunty wave as Woolsey left and popped the last bite of his blueberry muffin in his mouth. He had missed blueberry muffins while they were in Atlantis. Since he had the device out, he made a note to remind Parrish to bring blueberry seedlings along with them when they left the Milky Way Galaxy this time.

As John fiddled with his phone, Ronon and Rodney both looked up at the same time. The simultaneous movement caught and drew John’s attention, though he kept his head bent over the phone. This time, Ronon straightened in his chair, as he looked past John warily, his hand inched down towards the place his blaster should be. Rodney’s eyes went a little wide and he carefully put his spoon and pudding down, folded his hands and waited. McKay glanced over at Lorne for a moment before watching the approach of whomever it was coming up at Sheppard’s back. McKay's calm told John that it was someone Rodney knew, but Ronon did not. It was not one of the Atlantis people then.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you,” a cheerful voice with a mild southern accent drawled over John's head just as a heavy hand dropped onto his shoulder. There was a quick gentle squeeze, and the stroke of fingers up his neck. John forced himself not to flinch away as Rodney’s eyes flashed immediately over to Woolsey. The Investigator had paused and was now standing still beside the door leading out of the Commissary, watching the interplay at their table intently.

He would play along. John kept his eyes on Rodney and Ronon, watching his teammates for clues. They hadn't jumped up, so he wouldn't either. Lorne had come down here with a warning. Perhaps he knew about this, had set it all up and just hadn’t expected Woolsey to get there before he could tell John what the plan was. Casually, John leaned back slightly in his chair and said loudly enough for Woolsey to hear across the room, “I’ve been right here, just having a little late breakfast with the boys.”

The hand returned to his shoulder and squeezed again, perhaps in approval. The hand slid down his arm and grasped a handful of his sleeve and John was hauled to his feet by the fabric and tugged up against a hard chest. Hands clasped the sides of his face and yanked him in for a kiss. A deep kiss. With tongue. This was not how John had envisioned his breakfast ending. Having his mouth ravaged by a complete stranger was pretty high on the list of experiences Sheppard would not have predicted for the day.

And ravaged he was. He assumed he was being mauled by one Commodore Cameron Mitchell, the guy that had petitioned for the trial bond contract. The fact that his friends were doing nothing to stop the ninja kissing attack proved that assumption correct in his mind. Ronon would have ripped anyone apart that had laid hands on any of his teammates without permission, but especially John. John was aware of the 'secret' orders Lorne had given years ago to Ronon, Stackhouse and Markham; to protect John from bodily harm at all costs.

John decided he might be missing something and it might be best to ignore the thoughts racing through his head and concentrate instead on making this look good. So he opened his mouth, slid his hands up to brace himself on broad shoulders and returned the kiss.

~*~

Cameron Mitchell had never done anything like this in his life. He was making a public spectacle of himself in the middle of the packed SGO commissary, and outing his sex preferences in the process. But that was sort of the point, after all. He'd come up with this plan and he intended that there be no doubt in anyone’s mind when he left this room that he was serious in his petition for John Sheppard’s bond.

His friend Petty Officer Harriman had been all too happy to play the accomplice and let Cam know when the two people he wanted present were both in a crowded public space at SGO. When Walter had called a few minutes earlier to excitedly inform him that both Woolsey and Sheppard were together, Cam had run the three levels down to the commissary from his office, trying all along not to think about the consequences of what he planned to do.

He was in this to win now. Woolsey and his cohorts had been slinging some deep horse hockey around and Cam wasn’t going to take it lying down.

The Sub Commander had obviously been surprised by the kiss; Cam hadn’t had time to warn him, so Sheppard had not seen it coming. But Sheppard was quick on the uptake, Cam gave him that, he’d jumped right in with both feet. Mitchell hadn’t been expecting that, though he should have, Sheppard was an SGO officer after all, used to thinking and acting on the fly. Mitchell had not expected the jolt of lust that hit him when after a few moments hesitation; his kiss had been returned with matching intensity. Cam had to force himself to break it off, to tear his lips away, though his hands still framed Sheppard’s face as he pulled back.

“I was gonna see if you wanted lunch, but if you only just had breakfast…” He hoped his voice wasn't as shaky as he felt. With a few deep breaths to calm himself, he took the opportunity to stare at the face he was holding. Lord, pictures didn’t do him justice. Up close, Sheppard was beautiful. Thick eyelashes fluttered as he opened his eyes and stared back at Cam, his hazel eyes slightly shiny, pupils wide. He had apparently been as affected as Cam had been. The knowledge gave Mitchell a little thrill, even as it worried him.

“He eats like a bird; he could stand to have a sandwich, or three,” Rodney called helpfully from somewhere behind them.

There was a pointed clearing of a throat nearby; Mitchell looked over to see Woolsey approaching. The investigator said snidely, “If you have the time, I was really hoping to have that meeting, Sub Commander?”

Cam had not counted on this physical reaction to Sheppard; this was supposed to be a temporary thing, a means to an end. He was not supposed to be affected like this. Not supposed to be attracted. He needed to play out this scene for Woolsey’s benefit and get the hell out of Dodge, to where he could breathe and think clearly. “Could it wait until after lunch, Mister Wooly?” Cam asked, running a hand up and down John’s arm as he continued to stare at him, unable to tear his gaze away.

“Woolsey,” the man corrected with a mild sneer. “I have a meeting to attend now, but perhaps Sub Commander Sheppard could make himself available at 3pm in the Auxiliary Conference Room? As the petitioner, you are of course welcome to any and all proceedings having to do with this matter. The Council recognizes your right as interim _panor'eten_ to voice any concerns regarding your _keri._ ” The invitation was extended grudgingly; Woolsey obviously didn't want him there. Tough horse hockies, Cam was going, just because he wasn’t wanted.

~*~

John knew that he was supposed to say something, but he couldn't think of what it was. What the heck was wrong with him? He was looking up into a pair of blue eyes that seemed to be looking straight through him. Mitchell had about an inch on him, and judging by the broad shoulders that had somehow ended up clasped tightly under John’s hands, a few pounds of muscle as well. He’d been so antagonized by the whole situation that he hadn’t bothered to look up anything on his potential _panor'eten_ , he’d had no idea what the man even looked like.

He felt himself being maneuvered ever so slightly, a knee firmly nudging him around a little bit as Woolsey dutifully, formally, repeated his earlier meeting request to Commodore Mitchell. John didn’t realize what Mitchell was doing until he felt hands sweep down to his ass. Unfortunately, in regards to propriety, Sheppard was ticklish, particularly on his sides and belly. As the Commodore’s hands caressed over him, he buckled, curving in towards Mitchell and letting out a series of snorts and giggles. He glanced up to see Mitchell looking down at him with a gleeful smirk and a devilish gleam in his eye.

“Don’t you dare -” Sheppard gasped out, pointing a finger at Mitchell’s chest. Mitchell smiled and ignored the warning, and fluttered his fingers across John's belly deliberately, inciting another smattering of guffaws. He dropped his hands to Sheppard's waist and let them rest there as the outburst subsided.

“How did I not know he was ticklish?” Rodney groused as Woolsey stormed from the Commissary. “Three years and I never knew he giggled like the Pillsbury Dough Boy.” Rodney was mildly affronted by the lack of knowledge, apparently. His friends, as usual, ignored his complaints.

The other personnel in the mess hall were watching the display with varying degrees of interest, the most intense scrutiny coming from the displaced Atlantis personnel that happened to be present to see their Military Commander caught up in a lip lock with the new Atlantis Overseer, and the subsequent burst of giggles. John looked around, rolled his eyes, shrugged and then just nodded to those he knew that were smiling at him. The rumor mill would soon be churning at a mad pace. Already John could see the cell phones out and knew that the text messages must be flying across the base. He didn’t doubt that someone had caught the kiss on their camera, and that he’d be able to find the evidence on the base network by dinner time that evening.

John slid back from Mitchell, clearing his throat and looking down meaningfully when Mitchell’s hands remained on his hips.

“Oh, right.” Cam released his hold on John and slid into the chair Lorne had vacated for him. When John just stood there, Cam tugged out John’s chair and patted the seat. John sat, slowly, his eyes still on Mitchell, taking his measure.

“Cameron Mitchell,” with a wide grin, Cameron held out a hand to John.

“John Sheppard.” John took it; giving a guarded smile at the goofy smirk Cam flashed him. He waved his hand around the table in introduction to his friends. “You know Lorne; this is Doctor McKay, that’s Ronon.” Mitchell nodded to everyone in greeting. “You certainly make an entrance, Commodore.”

“Call me Cam. Given the circumstances, it’s a little silly to stand on rank and protocol, don’t you think?”

There was a grunt from across the table. Mitchell looked over at Ronon with mock concern. “Conan’s not gonna break me in pieces for sullying your virtue or anything, is he?”

“He might,” Sheppard drawled.

“I might,” Ronon agreed with a nod and a toothy snarl for good measure.

Mitchell dropped a hand onto John’s arm. “I’m impressed by how well you rolled with that just now. Thanks for not hauling off and busting my lip.”

“If Evan hadn't warned me we had trouble brewing, I might have done just that.”

Ronon eyed Mitchell speculatively for a few moments before coming to some kind of conclusion. He nodded his head and stood up, knocking his chair backwards slightly before he caught it and set it right again. “Teyla is having a test today. Doctor Beckett says I should be there.”

“What kind of test?” Rodney looked up with concern.

“A soner-ram,” Ronon struggled over the unfamiliar word. He grabbed hold of Rodney’s jacket and pulled the scientist up with him.

Recognizing that he was meant to accompany Ronon, McKay gave in to the inevitable and allowed himself to be dragged from his chair. He leaned back and scooped up his laptop from the edge of the table and juggled it and his finished breakfast tray as he was drawn after Ronon. “Oh, that’s an interesting one. You should be able to see hands and feet and stuff,” Rodney said. “I’ll walk with you, shall I? Nice meeting you Hot Lips, see you later John.” He waved as Ronon grunted and yanked him along to the exit.

Leaning across the table, Evan pointed between John and Cam and advised in a low voice, “Don't let them separate you. My father said it was important, neither of you should be interviewed by anyone with regards to the petition or the contract unless the other one is present from here on in, for your own protection. Go forward operating under the assumption that Commodore Mitchell is already your _panor'eten_ , John.”

“Is that what you were coming to tell me?” John asked, his nerves ramping up as he realized what Evan was telling him, what he was being told to do.

“Partly. I wanted to warn you about Woolsey.”

John smirked and whispered, “And the Commodore's planned stealth attack?”

Evan shook his head and admitted, “I didn't know about that. Nicely done, sir, you threw Woolsey off his game, if nothing else.”

“Mmm hmm,” Mitchell was surveying the room, and noticed a lot of glances still being thrown their way. “Let's save the conversation for later, shall we?” He tilted his head towards a table of giggling scientists nearby.

Lorne stood up, tapping at the radio pickup hooked over his ear as he did so. “Yes, right, ok, sure, yes. Ok. Ok. On my way.” He shook his head ruefully and shrugged. ”Gotta go, someone is trying to convince my quartermaster that coffee filters are not mission essential.”

“Give 'em hell, Major. And if that doesn't work, threaten to tell Rodney what they said.” John waved as Evan jogged off, leaving him alone with Mitchell.

He turned in his chair a little so that he was facing the Commodore. “So.”

“So. That's a first, I hadn't wrapped my head around it all yet, and now I'm suddenly a _panor'eten_. I guess I figured there'd be more...” he trailed off and shrugged.

“Ceremony and hoopla?”

“I guess. Momma's gonna be pissed that it's already a done deal.”

A safe topic, maybe? John grabbed onto it like a lifeline. ”You close with your family?”

“Oh yeah. Got a whole passel of them back home. Parents, brother, aunts uncles, cousins, nieces; the works. You?”

“There's just my brother now. Our mother was killed in a car accident years ago, our second father passed last year, complications of a virus outbreak.”

“Is he bonded, your brother?” Cam hadn't found any more information in Sheppard's file about his family after Rosalind Sheppard had died. People were watching them with curiosity. Mitchell wondered how many eyes and ears were reporting back to the Council about what went on here. Let them listen, this performance was for their benefit.

“Dave? Yeah. His _panor'eten_ is pretty nice. Janelle always makes me welcome when I have time to get to Maryland on leave.”

“They have kids?”

John shook his head sadly. ”No. There have been problems. The usual, enzyme levels are wrong, implantation won't take. A shame really, they really want children. They'd both be great parents. I never planned to do this, you know,” John met Cam's steady gaze and blurted out the last, he felt strangely compelled to be honest with this man, with this person he was now bonded to, if only temporarily.

“So, I gathered, from talking to Evan. I think we've put on enough of a display for the time being. Walk with me?” Mitchell pushed away from the table and stood. When John did the same, he felt Mitchell's hand, warm on the small of his back, guiding him out of the commissary. He tamped down a shudder, this was all for show. Mitchell was a tactician and this was all for appearances sake.

“My office is three flights up, walk or elevator?”

“I'm good with walking. Elevators lost their charm after experiencing the instant transporters on Atlantis.”

Mitchell grunted in agreement. ”I can imagine a lot of things pale in comparison. You must miss it.”

“Yeah, yeah I do.” John reached out and grasped Mitchell's elbow, stopping him as they reached the first landing. “I...”

“Not here.” Mitchell turned and resumed walking, John following a few steps behind. They didn't speak again until they reached an office door, which Mitchell pushed open. He tossed his head towards the interior. John stepped in, and tried to remain calm as Mitchell closed the door and he was alone with his _panor'eten_ for the first time.

The Commodore reached for a small device on the top of a bookshelf near the door and flicked a switch. It glowed as he dropped it onto a pile of file folders on the cluttered desk. “A scrambler. No one will overhear us now. You may speak freely. Consider that carte blanche, John. You can always say whatever you want. So long as it isn't mission related, ranks are irrelevant between us, okay?”

“That works for me.” John relaxed slightly, he'd been a bit nervous, Mitchell outranked him by a full grade and two bars. He hadn't known what that might mean when they were alone. “You have friends in Tech,” John tossed his chin towards the scrambler.

“The best, Sam Carter is like a sister to me.” The office was austere. John couldn't glean much about Mitchell from the military issued furnishings. He was buried in paperwork. That was evident to anyone that saw the desk and the credenza behind it; the files were chest high on the desk, and the floor surrounding the desk was cluttered with SGO mission reports as well. Glancing down, John smirked as he spied his own signature on the jackets of the files on top of the stacks. The new Overseer was doing his homework about Pegasus. That was reassuring.

There were a couple of framed photos on the bookcase, John peered at them. He saw a smiling Mitchell, with his arms slung around Charles Kawalsky and Daniel Jackson, survivors of the Abydos Expedition. In another, Sam Carter was planting a kiss on a smirking Mitchell's cheek. There was another with a man that was likely Mitchell judging by the subject’s frame; it was taken in shadow, the outline of a man lifting a child high over his head beneath a tree. He was oddly drawn to that photo, and lifted it to examine it more closely.

“My niece, Tara. Her favorite saying is 'Fly me, Uncle Cam' I think she might have the makings of a pilot someday. My brother Cole caught us playing last summer and snapped that picture.”

John placed the frame down again. ”Nice shot, I like it. Listen, I should probably thank you. You're going out on a limb here, way out and I appreciate it. I might not show it, but I do.”

“I suppose we need some ground rules.”

Sheppard's response was cut off by the blaring of emergency klaxons. Walter Harriman's voice came over the PA, “Commodore Mitchell to the Gate Room.”

“Duty calls.” Mitchell clicked off the scrambler and dove for the door, running out into the corridor with Sheppard close on his heels.

When they arrived in the control room, Commodore Kawalsky, the Overseer of the SGO base, glanced over at Sheppard, gave Mitchell a weird look and shook his head in disapproval at him. “Mitchell. I know you're new to all the ins and outs of handling a _keri_ , but you are not supposed to drag him into the potential danger zone.”

John's shoulders stiffened at the Base Commander's words, just enough that Cam noticed. In a tone the brooked no argument he said, “He goes where I go. What's the situation?”

And right there, right then, John Sheppard could have kissed him. Maybe having a _panor'eten_ capable of silencing a Base Commander with a mere five words wouldn't be such a bad thing.


	5. According to Plan... Not

The meeting with Woolsey didn't happen at 3pm the day of the incident in the mess hall. Nor did it happen over the course of the next three days, due to the chaos that ensued when a pack of tiny velociraptors, as the marines started calling them for lack of anything better, scooted through the gate on the heels of the incoming SG-15 and made it into the ventilation system on the base. The things multiplied by the hour, were faster than hell on wheels and carried a noxious venom that made humans sick, which they could spit about forty feet with surprising accuracy. It was a harrowing few days of search and capture operations on the base.

When they finally did make it to the meeting, Cam was sporting a host of scratches along his arms, up his neck and across his face. A few hours into the incursion, he had encountered a small pack of the creatures in a stairwell and had run out of ammo before he could get clear of them. The encounter had left him battered, sick, and down his favorite and most comfortable base uniform.

As for John, he was furious and high strung by the time he was finally allowed out of the small holding cell where he had been sequestered ‘for his own safety’ for three days. Commodore Kawalsky had given the order for Sheppard’s removal from the Control Room personally when the Gate Room had erupted in reptilian confusion and Cam had run down to try to help shoot the tiny invaders, without seeing to the safety of his provisional _keri_ first. A burly marine had crossed the Control Room, picked John up like a sack of potatoes, slung him over his shoulder and hauled him off to the detention level. The grunt had arms like a stevedore and John couldn’t wriggle free from his grasp, no matter how hard he struggled. He bitched all the way down to the brig, but the marine ignored him. John gained a new appreciation for how Rodney must feel most of the time.

Drugged to the gills with pain medication and barely conscious in the infirmary while he recovered from the attack of the miniature lizard swarm from hell, Mitchell had been unaware that his prospective _keri_ was still tucked away under lock and key. This fact only came to his attention when Rodney McKay had stomped up to his bedside, poked him viciously on an un-bandaged spot on his shoulder and proceeded to berate him about the military halfwits upstairs having John ‘thrown in jail’ to rot for three days. Ronon stood behind McKay's shoulder, nodding in agreement and growling at appropriate junctures during McKay's tirade. Rodney only shut up when Cameron viciously yanked the IV from his arm, swung his legs off the bed, and stumbled out to see to the matter personally, ignoring the orderlies and nurse that tried to stop him from leaving the infirmary.

Highly irritated with Charles Kawalsky for his interference, and intending to shout the place down because of it, Mitchell had stormed down to the detention level, Ronon at his back. This turned out to be fortuitous, because Cam's balance was completely shot, his vision was blurry, and he could barely walk beyond an awkward stumbling gait. He needed to be picked up twice after falling on his face.

Rodney had run up to block his path and turn him around in the right direction after Cam led them first to the armory and then to the Ancient Artifact library, rather than to the brig. Eventually, Ronon huffed impatiently, grabbed Cam by the upper arms and frog-marched him where they needed to go, with Rodney acting as guide.

The sentries on duty did not want to let them in; they had orders from the Base Commander to protect Sub Commander Sheppard, there had been no orders left with instructions for visitors or access by any officers. Dismayed that his rank wasn't enough to open the door, Mitchell had been about to radio Charles Kawalsky and chew him out for his part in this fiasco when Rodney stepped forward and cleared his throat imperiously.

In a voice that was quite calm, yet venomously dripping with threat, McKay informed the guards that they were in violation of Civic Code 5, and that if they did not cease and desist in preventing this _panor_ access to his _keri_ on the other side of that door, the marine guards would undoubtedly spend the rest of their military careers in and out of court rooms defending their actions.

It might have been the afterthought Rodney added that did the trick, “That is, if Mitchell here doesn’t go completely berserker on your stupid asses and tear your faces off with his bare hands.” Wisely, they opened the door.

A peek into the cell revealed an outwardly calm Sheppard sitting on the cot inside, a battered paperback copy of "Animal Farm" dangling from one hand. He looked up, stood, and drawled, "About time, I read this thing twice already. I hate pigs." He tossed the book onto the bed as he stood and stretched his arms up over his head and gave a wide yawn.

Following the others out of the cell, his swagger was confident and smooth, but McKay and Dex exchanged glances, they had seen the slightly wild look in Sheppard's eyes, three years going out on missions with him had taught them to recognize John’s various masks; he was faking this nonchalance. This was his ‘we’re gonna come back and bomb the crap out of you’ face, reserved for the most annoying of the frequent hostage situations they encountered in the Pegasus Galaxy, where kidnapping and ransom were accepted negotiation tactics. Their friend hated being cooped up, it was a borderline phobia with Sheppard. Three days in the small room had to have been a form of torture for him.

Determined to keep up a stoic front, John didn’t say anything as they walked away from the detention cells. Sheppard might have voiced his displeasure with the entire situation if he hadn’t been able to see for himself what rough shape his pro-tem _panor'e'ten_ was in.

“Are you supposed to be walking around?” John asked as Cam listed to the side and rammed his shoulder into a wall.

“I’m fine,” Cam slurred as he leaned against the wall to catch his breath.

Ronon shook his head, rolled his eyes and grabbed hold of Mitchell to steer him down the center of the corridor. Cam tripped over his feet, only staying upright because Ronon had a good firm hold of his shoulders. Realizing this was the case; he wrinkled his nose and admitted, “Well, maybe I better go to my quarters.”

“I’ll take him. You should go up topside with McKay,” Ronon tossed his chin at the ceiling, knowing that John needed the sky right now more than anything else to get himself back to center. Three days in the bowels of SGO could not be good for his state of mind.

“Yes, Woolsey has been looking for you, he interviewed Teyla and me yesterday and was more than slightly put out that you and Bumbles McFallsalot over here were not available for comment at his convenience. I heard him attempting to badger his way into the infirmary, but that little blonde doctor that looks like she’s all of fourteen years old wouldn’t let him in.”

“Who? Doctor Keller? I knew I liked Keller,” Cam smiled dopily at McKay and stopped as an idea occurred to him. He held up a finger and waved it towards Rodney’s nose as he suggested, “We should take her to Atlantis. She’d be a good addition to the team, right?”

It was Rodney’s turn to roll his eyes. “Wrong. Ronon, maybe you should make sure he doesn’t talk to anyone else on his way to his room. We might end with someone like Kavanaugh on the mission.”

“Right. See ya later Sheppard,” Ronon gave them a jaunty salute and proceeded to escort Mitchell home.

Rodney tapped John on the shoulder and pointed towards the stairs. “I know a way up to the parking lot; we can cut around the security checkpoints.” He dug into his pocket and withdrew a set of keys, which he jangled noisily, drawing John’s attention back to him. “Lorne said we could borrow his car.”

“Lorne’s got a car here?”

“If you want to call it that, he keeps an old pickup parked in the base’s long term parking. He claims it runs perfectly fine.”

Seizing on the escape plan eagerly, John reached over and snatched the keys from Rodney’s fingers. “Let’s go.”

~*~

Eventually, Richard Woolsey had gone to Commodore Kawalsky and either convinced him with a persuasive argument to summon John and Cameron to a meeting, or had bitched so much that Charles had thrown up his hands and given the order just to shut Woolsey up.

Needless to say, the meeting had been tense. John sat with his arms crossed, hostility in his eyes as he glared at Woolsey, and had said as little as possible, leaving the talking to Cameron.

After verbally answering a slew of questions that had already been covered in one form or another on the paperwork Lorne had submitted for them, Woolsey released them, insisting that all medical test results be forwarded to the OIA within 48 hours. The OIA was insisting that a battery of medical tests be performed on both Mitchell and Sheppard, general health exams as well as the PSG/FSG primary test to prove bonding compatibility. Since there would not be an actual physical bonding taking place until after the terms of the contract had been met and Mitchell came to a decision to either make the relationship permanent or release Sheppard from any further obligation, the OIA was demanding the proof of compatibility as a condition to signing off on the contract.

By mutual agreement, Sheppard and Mitchell had gone straight from the meeting to get the poking and prodding over with. They walked to the infirmary together in companionable silence. Though he had only seen him a handful of times, John noticed and appreciated that Mitchell could be quiet and still be present in the moment; in the same way Ronon was much of the time. He had an expressive face and during the meeting, he had done an excellent job of conveying his feelings about Woolsey and the proceedings to John, all without saying a word. Thus far, it had not been a hardship to be in the man’s company. That boded well for this farce of a bonding they were perpetrating.

“Ah, there you are, Commodore. If you please, do not release yourself from the infirmary without medical supervision again. I can promise next time, the consequences will be… unpleasant.” The Scottish doctor clucked his tongue, crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Cameron. “Am I understood?”

John bumped shoulders with Cam and said in a stage whisper, “Just say yes. CB’s got big needles.”

“Yes,” Cam chirped immediately.

“Right.” Doctor Beckett eyed Cameron, judging his sincerity and then nodded in approval. “Well, I got a data burst from those nosy pests over at the OIA with a right long list of tests they’re demanding on you two. I suppose we should get to it. Commodore, you have a seat there, I’ll just start with John, since the first few tests will take longer to run. Would that be all right?”

Both men shrugged and John hopped up onto the exam table that Carson patted. The doctor plugged his stethoscope into his ears and reached a hand over to tug up the edge of John’s t shirt and then paused, his outstretched hand hovering inches from John’s stomach. His eyes flashed up to meet John’s and the doctor looked unusually sad for a moment. Carson turned slightly to look over at Cameron, sprawled uncomfortably in a chair, trying to find a position that didn’t aggravate his healing wounds. “Permission to touch your _keri_ , Commodore.” John took a deep breath, understanding the odd look now. Carson had never before needed anyone’s permission but John’s to treat him. Until now, John had been able to say yea or nay for himself. Of all of his friends, CB understood best what the loss of that independence meant to John.

Apparently surprised by the question, Cameron sat up a little straighter in the chair as he processed things. His earnest response earned him Carson’s trust right then and there. “Always, Doctor Beckett. You may consider this my blanket approval from now on; I will put something formally in writing to go into John’s personnel file and medical records. If he needs something, you give it to him. If he comes to you, you do as he asks. If he so much as sniffles, you treat him. If I ever hear that you or any of your staff have given him a problem when it comes to his medical needs, the consequences will be… unpleasant.” He stared at Beckett as he echoed the doctor’s earlier words back at him. “Am I understood?”

"Aye, perfectly. I notice you’re looking a mite bit uncomfortable there, Commodore.” Carson reached into the pocket of his lab coat and pulled out a blister pack of pills. After checking the label, he tossed it to Cam. “Those might help with the inflammation and ease some of the ache you might be feeling.”

“Call me Cam, please.” Mitchell snagged the pills from midair and got up to go to the water cooler, leaving John alone with Beckett, a clear sign of his trust in the doctor.

Carson kept his voice low as he tugged John’s shirt up. “Take this off now, you can keep your pants on. I have to tell you, I wasn’t too keen on Evan’s daft plan when he and David came to me with it. But Mitchell seems a likeable sort of fellow, I’ve heard good things from the people on base here about him, and Evan spoke highly of him.” As he put the stethoscope to John’s bare chest he looked into his friend’s eyes and asked, “Will you be all right, John?”

No one had asked him that, since this whole thing started. “I don’t know. I hate this, CB, I really do. So far, he’s been cool about everything. But he’s going to be as much a prisoner in this setup as I am. It’s his reputation, his name, his House on the line.” The last few days in captivity had worn Sheppard down, coming on the heels of losing the court battle for his independence, and his nerves and confidence were frazzled. In a small, uncertain voice, one that only Carson had ever been privy to hearing before, John asked, “What happens later, if things go bad? I don’t know where I go from here. I don’t know what to do.”

Beckett squeezed his shoulder. “Cross that bridge when we come to it, eh? You’re not alone, John, you’ve got good friends to stand with ya. We… I won’t let them take Atlantis from ye, lad. I told you before, and the offer still stands, if you need protection, I’ll take you on myself, no strings, no expectations.”

With a relieved chuckle John shook his head. “You’re not my type.”

"Is he?” Carson tilted his head towards Mitchell, leaning against a wall caught up in conversation with a dark haired man with glasses that bore a rather striking resemblance to Cameron. John wondered if they were possibly related. He hardly knew anything about his _panor_. He needed to remedy that, and quickly.

“Uhm,” John tilted his head back and forth before shrugging. “I dunno. Maybe? The better question would be if I’m his type.”

“And by his type you mean tall, dark, reckless and too skinny?” Carson poked John lightly in the ribs, knowing full well he was ticklish and would squirm a little. John would pay him back eventually, Carson was just as ticklish.

“I mean male and possessing no female parts. Aside from the… you know,” John waved at his midsection and made the same disgusted face he usually did when discussing the physical traits of his _keri_ state with Carson.

“Egg sac, I know. You don’t even know if he’s hetero or not? I think I’m going to slap Evan silly when I see him. That’s a rather important detail.”

John watched Mitchell as he tossed back the pills and continued to listen intently to the other man, now talking with his hands, gesturing frequently in illustration of his point. “He isn’t hard to look at. And he’s a good kisser.”

“Aye, I heard about that little display.” Carson pushed John back onto the exam table, placing sticky contact pads at intervals around his chest.

Stifling a giggle as Carson brushed across a sensitive nipple while placing the pad, John idly picked at the stickers until Carson batted his hand away. “Evan told you?”

“No.” Carson moved away and started turning on various machines. John waited, but he didn’t seem inclined to add more details.

“Gonna tell me who told you?”

“Ronon did, actually, while the nurse was setting up Teyla’s sonogram. He was quite amused by the whole thing, our Ronon.”

“He would be. He and Teyla have been trying to marry me off for years, ever since they hooked up. They think everyone else’s natural happy state should be committed bliss. I don’t really get it, they’re not even bonded.”

“Old fashioned love, lad. That’s what that is. Plain old fashioned love, like my mum and da had. Roll over; I need to put a few of these on your back too.”

“My mom loved my second father, CB,” John protested, using the nickname Carson pretended to hate, but secretly loved. For some reason, of all his friends, Beckett was the one most able to get John to talk. He seemed to know exactly what to say to provoke the normally laconic Sheppard into revealing things he ordinarily kept hidden. It was probably because Beckett could keep a secret, in addition to being an excellent listener. John very rarely spoke about his family to anyone other than Beckett; he doubted any of them other than CB knew he even had living family.

“Aye. So you’ve told me. Do you not think that maybe there’s something to the idea that love outside the bond, without all the hormones and chemicals influencing your emotions is the way things were meant to be?” They’d had similar discussions about this. Beckett was a romantic. And not even a closet one, he was completely out in the open about it. It had surprised John at first, that this man who knew so much about the why and how of the genetics behind the bonding process could still be so enamored of the idea of natural love between two people. Three generations of racial fertility issues had disabused most Earthlings of the notion.

John rolled onto his back as Carson prompted him to with a touch. “Why pine for what we can’t have, Carson? We can’t do without the bond, why torture ourselves with fantasies of the way things used to be and can never be again?”

The doctor leaned in to look John in the face, with his hands braced to either side of John’s head. “Perhaps they can be.”

"Not again, please. You’re not going to start on this again, are you?”

“You just said it yourself, Ronon and Teyla, and all those others out in Pegasus, they still meet and marry and make babies the old way. And they’re human, John, or close enough to it.”

“Did you forget about the Wraith? I don’t think they’d be too keen on us stealing their primary food supply to use as breeding stock.”

There was a clearing of throats and Carson straightened up and backed away from John to fiddle with a softly beeping machine.

“I think we came in on something interesting,” Mitchell remarked, looking from Carson to John and back again. When neither offered to explain, Mitchell shrugged it off and pointed to his companion. “This is my friend, Daniel, he wanted to meet Sheppard. Daniel, this is Carson and that’s John.”

“Pleased to meet you, I’m a little tied up at the moment or I’d offer my hand,” John raised his arms to show the assortment of wires Carson had hooked up to him.

“So I see. You aren’t by chance discussing the possibilities of re-fertilizing Earth with people from Pegasus, are you?” Daniel looked to Beckett for confirmation. “The debates going on in Oslo and Tokyo by those with the clearance to know about the Atlantis Expedition have been fascinating. The anthropological and sociological impact studies underway are coming up with some rather radical theories about the practical application of doing that.”

Beckett’s eyes went wide as he realized the identity of the man in front of him. “You’re Doctor Jackson, from the Abydos Expedition, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Daniel smiled and returned cheekily, “And you’re Carson Beckett, the researcher that found the source of the imprint gene. I’m pleased to meet you, Doctor.”

“Likewise,” Carson shook Daniel’s hand when it was offered.

Daniel waggled his fingers around at the machines and John. “Do you mind if I stay? I’d like to ask you a few questions before I have to leave the planet again. They’re sending me out with SG-3 to broker a peace treaty on Langara before they blow the planet up and all that lovely naquadria with it.”

Carson looked to John, who nodded his agreement and settled back on the exam table with his eyes closed. “I’m just testing the Sub Commander’s nerve responses. A waste of time, really, it has nothing to do with the bonding process, but the OIA insists on it.” He flicked a few switches and set the machines to their task.

“Commo… Cam, if you’d sit there?” he patted a gurney that he’d pulled close to where John was stretched out. Cameron climbed up slowly, his muscles still tight and aching. “I’ll need a few vials.”

“He’s a vampire,” John intoned in a voice meant to be spooky.

“Ah, lad, you promised not to tell anyone. I’ll have to do you next, then.” Surprisingly, Beckett didn’t call a phlebotomist in to take the samples he needed. He tugged Mitchell’s arm out, found the vein and inserted the tap in a few seconds flat and began to fill the vials.

“Shaking in my boots, CB.”

“As you should be, I’m a very scary man. Lie still and be quiet.”

With his eyes still closed, ignoring his surroundings in an attempt to be calm, John said, “You’re not scary, I’m scary.”

“No, you’re not. Hush up,” Carson quipped and looked over and winked at the smirking Doctor Jackson.

“You said in your journal article this past summer that the cloning project being done in Melbourne wasn’t feasible as a long term solution to the fertility problem. I didn’t really understand the science behind it.”

Beckett nodded and drew another tube full of Mitchell’s blood. “If the population of fertile humans was still the same as before the plague, then cloning would be a viable alternative. But because of the changes, it won’t work. Our genetic structure is different now, because of the _keri_ and _panor_ bonding. It has to do with genomic imprinting and the inheritance of one set of genes from the _keri_ and the other from the _panor_. In the past, that would have been much more fluid, the genetics of mother and father being much less specific than they are now. The DNA is not methylated in the proper position. The genetic sets are much more structured, and due to the allelic expression of…” Carson trailed off as he realized that both Daniel and Mitchell were wearing identical glazed expressions as they stared at him; he’d lost them.

“Oh, well, let’s just say the genes won’t clone well, there isn’t enough time for the proper reproductive cycling to occur with _panor_ and _keri_ genetic material.”

Still resting with his eyes closed, with humor in his voice John asked, “You’re getting the Evan Stare now, aren’t you?”

Beckett replied with a sigh, “Aye, from both of them.”

“Aw, CB, don’t worry. Someday, you’ll find someone to talk genetics with. Maybe a nice girl _keri_ that’ll want to settle down and make babies for you.”

Shaking his head to clear the confusion away, Daniel said, “Yes, well, genetics aside, I wanted to ask you about aggression in the _panor_ , I had always believed it was hormonal, but you cited a link between the PSG and neurotransmitter vasopressin…”

“What’s a PSG?” Cam asked, raising his hand as if he was in the schoolroom.

Carson answered patiently, as if he was lecturing, which had been his first love before being conscripted by SGO. “The Panor Specific Gene, as opposed to the KSG.”

“That’d be me,” John raised a hand and waggled his fingers in the air.

“Yes, yes, you’re very special. Now shush and be still, you’re making the numbers go wonky,” Carson chided.

John cracked one eye open and asked, “Is wonky the proper scientific term for the discrepancies the machine will be showing in my accelerated heart rate and respiration?”

“A little knowledge is dangerous, Sheppard. Yes, I chose to say wonky. Be quiet or I’ll move on to the more invasive tests without putting up a privacy curtain.”

Mitchell hid his smirk behind his hand as John flopped back against the exam table. Beckett had moved over to him and was drawing blood samples from John’s arm. He was enjoying the byplay between the two friends. Evan had been correct when he told him Doctor Beckett cared deeply for his friend, it was apparent, even to him, a stranger to the relationship.

“To answer your question, Doctor Jackson, yes, I’ve believe I’ve been able to trace the genetic strand that may be responsible for the increased aggression and possessive nature in the _panor_ , I no longer believe hormones are entirely to blame. The Jirante, as you know, will neither confirm nor deny any of our studies, claiming we need to learn on our own, but I believe the _panor_ traits have been patterned after other mammalian male mating behaviors. I’ve got a draft of the next paper I’m planning to publish on the topic, if you’d like to give it a read through.”

“I would indeed, thank you Doctor.”

“Most welcome.”

“So, are any of these tests today actually necessary, Doc?” Mitchell pulled his gaze away from where Beckett had inserted the tap into John’s arm; the sight of the blood was making Mitchell uncharacteristically nervous. That disturbed him. He was a soldier, he was used to blood. It had never bothered him before. It hadn’t bothered him when he’d watch Carson pulling tube after tube out of his own arm minutes earlier. Why was he queasy now?

“Aye, I’ll need baseline numbers for both of your charts, so it is not a total waste of our time. The most important of the batch is the blood test I’m setting up now. If it fails, then it all stops right here, I’m afraid.”

Daniel had leaned back against the wall and watched with interest as Beckett inserted two tubes of blood, one from John and one from Cameron, into a small device and shut the top with a snap. “Which test is this?”

“The KSG/PSG primary, the blood analysis will tell us if the bonding can take place. If it can’t, well then, the OIA is going to have their case wrapped with a bow for them.” Carson glanced at John and griped, “I wish Lorne had come to me before he filed the papers. This test was supposed to be done first.” He pressed a button and a red light came on atop the device and it began to hum. “That will take a wee bit of time to process.”

“Evan fudged the papers?” John sat up, dislodging a few wires as he did so. Carson clucked his tongue and moved to reattach them.

“I…” Beckett stuttered to a halt as he realized he was speaking in front of Doctor Jackson, a stranger to them.

Cameron waved away his concerns when Carson looked over at Daniel before he would answer. “It’s okay, Doc, Daniel knows everything.”

“Well then, aye, John, I’m afraid Lorne did fill in a few lines and check off a few wee boxes that he shouldn’t have.”

“Evan doesn’t do that,” John said quietly, denying what he had just heard. His eyes were troubled as he looked at Carson. “He doesn’t do that.”

“He did, for you. And he already said he would take the full blame if the KSG/PSG primary fails and the OIA finds out about it.” Beckett patted John’s arm, turned off one of the machines and started to remove some of the sticky pads that were no longer needed.

Daniel cleared his throat to get Carson’s attention and said, “Uh, listen. I’m really concerned about something.”

“Jackson,” Mitchell growled in warning, suspecting where his friend was going with this.

Daniel ignored him. “This temporary bonding, how is it going to affect Cameron? If something happens to Sheppard, are we talking a full blown _panor_ berserker here? I’ve seen Mitchell in an ordinary rage and it isn’t pretty, I can only imagine throwing bonding hormones into the mix.”

Leaning back against the edge of the exam table, bracing his hands behind him, Carson replied, “Hopefully their daily lives won’t be too adversely affected by the bonding. I’ll be injecting them both with a series of inhibitors. Those won’t override all the hormones, and without periodic reapplication, the effects will wear off, but it should stop the Main Phase of the bonding from beginning. I suspect, based on the Commodore’s reckless display in the infirmary yesterday that he’s already started on the _panor_ First Stage.”

“Huh? I have?” Mitchell jolted upright and looked straight at John.

“You bolted out of here in a manner described by the orderlies as quite berserker-like, with no regard to your own wounds or state of health. You were half stoned on pain medication and according to Ronon; you could barely see past your nose and were walking into the walls. So, aye, I suspect you’re in the First Stage, Cameron.”

Mitchell ran a hand through his hair and slumped forward in his chair, leaning heavily on his elbows and tugging on his ear, a nervous habit he had when he was upset. He had not expected this at all. He truly thought this was all going to be on paper, a relationship of convenience, in name only. “Well, crap.” He buried his face in his hands.

The look Carson gave him was sympathetic though Cam couldn’t see it. “Indeed. If you two aren’t a match, I fear you’re in for a painful letdown and recovery Cameron, unless you find another _keri_ to bond yourself to within in the next week or so. I’m going to get the chem strips for the Lesneil test; I’ll be back in a minute. Doctor Jackson, would you care to see one of the charts on the isolation of that genome we were discussing? I can give you that journal article we were speaking about as well; I have it on my desk.” Carson bustled away, towing Jackson after him.

Sitting up with his feet dangling over the edge of the exam table now, John chewed on his lower lip and looked at Cam regretfully. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s all right. It will be all right,” Peering at Sheppard through his spread fingers, Cam tried to reassure John in a voice that held absolutely no conviction. He saw John slide off the exam table and creep across the space between them to crouch down in front of him.

Hesitantly, John grasped one of Cam’s hands, pulling it down and away from his face, needing to see the _panor's_ eyes as he apologized again. “I really am sorry. You shouldn’t have to go through this, it wasn’t supposed to be like this, I never would have agreed…”

“Shhh. It’s ok.” Cam dropped his hands and stared into John’s concerned face.

“I never asked… I still don’t know… do you even like guys?” John’s eyes were dark as he looked at Cam, his pupils were so wide, there was hardly even any of the green left. Mitchell recognized the sign; he’d seen it often enough on soldiers in the field; fear. Sheppard was absolutely terrified at the moment. Of him? Or of his answer? Cam could practically taste the emotion pouring off the _keri_. The enormity of what was going on hit him. Oh, damn, he really was in First Stage, he was reading John’s emotions, picking them up through the tenuous link of First Stage.

Cam reached his hands out to cup John’s cheeks, needing to sooth, driven to comfort. “Yeah. Yeah, I do, as a matter of fact.”

The answer - it had been his answer Sheppard had feared. He felt a little guilty, Evan had told him John preferred men, but apparently the Major had neglected to tell John the same about him, and it had been cause for worry. At Cam’s quiet declaration, John started to breath normally and he relaxed significantly in Cam’s grasp. “That’s good.”

“C’mere, let me…” Cam drew John forward, touching their lips together tentatively, softly. It was nothing like the kiss in the commissary had been. That had been a claiming kiss, a declaration of territory. This was different; this was a question, a tentative exploration, a taste.

John pulled away, gently taking Cam’s hands and putting them away from him. Then he strung together the most words Cam had heard the man say at one time since he’d met him. “I didn’t want this. I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I don’t know that I can ever be what I’m supposed to be and it really isn’t fair to you, you deserve to have someone that is meant for this kind of life. And now if CB’s right you’re in First Stage and you have to bond with someone. This was supposed to be on paper.”

“I think it’s gone beyond that,” Carson said from behind John. He held the little device that had run the KSG/PSG primary test. Tipping it, the doctor showed them that the lights across the top were all green. “Positive. It looks like Lorne won’t be going to Quantico for that extended stay he almost earned himself after all.”

“So now what happens?” Cam asked, feeling the wave of despair that came over John as the _keri_ stared at the device in Carson’s hand.

“Well, the OIA can take their accusations and stick them in a very tight and uncomfortable place. I’m signing off now on the medical portion of your contract, without the rest of their bloody tests. I should probably give both of you the injections before you leave here today to head off the Main Phase, since Cam is already showing the major signs of _panor_ First Stage. John, I’ve got a list of symptoms, if you could go through it we can try to determine where you’re at in the bonding process. I’m not convinced you’re into your First Stage as yet. John? John? Come on, lad, up you come now.” Beckett prodded at Sheppard until he slowly stood and followed obediently to the exam table.

John didn’t need to see CB’s list. He knew he was into the _keri_ First Stage; now that he took the time to acknowledge it. He no longer had a choice; he was stuck with Cameron Mitchell for the next year, possibly longer, possibly forever, if Mitchell decided to press his claim.

“What happens if I… if we go into Main Phase?” Mitchell asked, wishing he’d paid more attention in science class when he’d been at the Academy.

Clucking his tongue, Carson moved to take another set of test strips from a vial on the counter nearby. “Then, my lad, there will be no separation at the end of your trial year, for you’ll be well and truly stuck with each other.”

“Hey Cam, you’re a _panor’eten_ , for real. You even went and had yourself a little baby _panor_ berserker fit.” Daniel had wandered back and was now grinning down at Cam. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Shut up, Jackson.”

“I’m going to call Sam as soon as I leave, she’ll be thrilled. And Jack? Jack is going to laugh his ass off.”

“I mean it, Jackson, shut up. Not helping. My _keri_ , in case you hadn’t noticed, is not exactly taking this new development very well.”

Daniel sobered as he saw that John was sitting stiffly on the exam table, his eyes wide and his face pale. His hands, where they gripped the edge of the table, were shaking slightly. “Doctor Beckett, just how bonded are they in First Stage?”

Checking a test strip that he had dipped into one of Cam’s blood samples, Carson answered distractedly. “They are bonded enough to make separating them a bad idea. If the bond is terminated now, they might not be able to get it back if they decided to make this permanent. The good news is the OIA has no say any longer; the law is on our lad’s side now, Cam’s legal rights as a _panor_ in First Stage must be upheld.”

Nodding in understanding, Daniel patted Cam’s shoulder. Cam looked up at Beckett and asked, “And the physical symptoms?”

“You’ll be hyper sensitive to each other’s emotions and physical health, and there will be a mating pull, but at this early stage it is resistible. The PSG will likely make you a bit over protective at times, Cameron. And you’re both going to be quick tempered and prone to extreme mood swings. Otherwise, you should be fine.”

“Are you sure this is happening, Doctor Beckett?” Daniel was watching Sheppard, the man looked miserable, and Cam was as low as Daniel had ever seen him.

“Aye,” Beckett waved at a piece of paper he’d just pulled from a printer. “The chemical process has already started, likely initiated when Cam did his Tarzan routine in the mess hall the other day. They’ve exchanged saliva; it seems that was enough for the process to start. Their age factors into the equation as well. John is thirty-five, a good fifteen years past primary mating age for a _keri_. I’m assuming that you’ve never mated outside the bond or donated to the genetics banks Cameron?”

“No.” Mitchell blushed as Daniel looked at him with one eyebrow quirked up. He pointed a finger in warning against any comment from his friend.

“Then you’ve got a forty year buildup of enzymes going for you as well. The two of you were just a pair of walking time bombs that happened to run into each other. I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.” Carson was puttering with blood vials and contact papers and test tubes.

John groaned and dropped his head into his hands. This was not going at all according to plan.

“How can it be this advanced already? It’s only been three days, I just kissed him, for crying out loud!”

“Age, opportunity, chemistry, you’re _panor_ , Cameron, you had to know the risks you took touching an unbonded _keri_ ,” Beckett’s tone held mild reproach as he replied to Cam’s outburst.

Cam shook his head. “It was supposed to be on paper. I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I was just trying to convince Woolsey to back off.”

“Well, mission accomplished, you dumbass.” Carson cuffed him upside the head lightly as he passed him on the way to the workstation behind Cam. Carson clicked a few keys on the datapad in his hand and frowned at what he read. “Oh, dear. I’m going to have to run a few other tests,” he gave John a pitying look and then turned to Mitchell, “I’m afraid you might already have passed into Main Phase, Cameron.” Carson looked at both men with concern and then ran off to collect more medical paraphernalia to run his tests.

John looked up at Carson’s retreating back and went completely white, all the blood draining away from his face.

“Oh crap,” Cam exclaimed as he saw John’s eyes roll up in his head. He darted forward just in time to catch him as he pitched off the exam table, out cold. He heard Jackson’s alarmed voice calling Beckett back over to them as Cam lifted his _keri_ and cradled him against his chest. “I am gonna kill Evan Lorne.”

Crouching beside them and huffing out his annoyance, Carson waved an ammonia packet under John’s nose as he muttered, “Aye, and I’ll be holding him down while ye do it.”


	6. Call Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *This chapter contains a bit of colorful language.

John sat on the edge of the bed and looked around at his spartan quarters, all the more bare now because he had packed up everything he owned, with the exception of the gear he’d be carrying on his back in three days when the Atlantis Expedition went through the gate. Each member of the expedition had been issued three transport boxes; they were allowed to take whatever personal gear they could fit into those boxes, no more. John had requested permission to bring his guitar, which he was told he had to hand carry through the gate himself, as SGO was not taking responsibility for it. John had snorted at the snotty little supply officer, as if he expected anyone but himself to carry one of his few prized possessions. Once John had packed his off duty clothes, a few books of sheet music, some photos, mementos, a loaded music player, electronic book reader, and his personal laptop, he’d had a box and a half still standing empty and had been perplexed as to what else to bring through the gate.

Then he though back over the last three years, over the things they had done without, and he remembered the Atlantis black market. He hitched a ride to town with Lorne to the local Super W Mart, where they stocked up on coffee beans, hard candy, condoms, lube, chocolate bars, socks, underwear, comfortable t-shirts and post it notes. Post it notes had become like gold on the market, the scientists would trade almost anything for them that last year. On the way up to the register with their overflowing cart, John had caught sight of a small stuffed chenille bunny while Lorne was still agonizing over which video games to buy. Thinking of Teyla and Ronon’s baby, he picked up the bunny and stuck it in the seat of the cart.

Lorne tossed all three games he had been debating about into the cart and eyed the toy with a bemused look. “Bunny?”

“I like bunnies, they’re cute. It’s soft, feel it. I thought Teyla’s baby might like it, when it gets here.”

“Not like you to plan ahead.”

“Oh, shut up. This whole shopping trip is planning ahead, Lorne.” John shoved the cart towards the checkout stand.

He was still annoyed with his friend over the whole bonding thing, but he was getting over it. Mitchell, on the other hand, was pointedly avoiding Evan on the grounds he was still liable to kill him, and had made no secret of the fact. The Main Phase scare had been several hours of torture for both John and Cameron.

Luckily, it had been only a scare; Cam was still only at the _panor_ First Stage and holding there. John had been triggered, but he was still on the low end of the scale, though his hormone levels were high. He had been advised by CB to keep his distance from Cam for a few days and under no circumstances was he to exchange any more body fluids with Mitchell until the stabilizing drugs took effect. In the past week, as the preparations for departure ramped up, they had done no more than wave to each other across a room now and then, and communicated through text messages and emails.

The bunny, along with his stockpile of necessities, was stowed safely in one of his allotted three cases, and was now on the way to the staging area with the rest of the Expedition’s gear.

In his hand was his cell phone, and he stared at the tiny view screen and the name displayed there. He had been putting this call off, and it was past time for it to happen. He pressed the image on the screen and listened as the call connected.

“You bastard! It’s about fucking time; I’ve been waiting for days, what took you so long? I’ve been worried sick. You don’t pick up your phone; you don’t reply to emails, you haven’t been home in two months, I was beginning to think something had happened to you and there was some big fucking SGO cover up going on to keep it from us. You’re an inconsiderate slime, you know that?”

“Hello, Dave.”

“Don’t ‘hello, Dave’ me. You suck. You really, really suck. I had to hear on the Netnews that you were going back, that the Atlantis Expedition was going back to Pegasus. Do you know how that made me feel, do you have any idea? My own brother, my only living flesh and blood relative, couldn’t tell me personally that he was leaving the planet again for three years? You couldn’t pick up a phone and call? I had to hear it on the Netnews, from some damned empty headed journalist reading off a teleprompter. Three frigging years, John! You’re leaving again for three frigging years!” Dave paused to take a breath and there was hesitation in his voice as he asked, “Wait, you are going with them, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Dave, I’m going.”

“You fucking suck. I swear… I hate you. Three. Fucking. Years. You’re an asshole. I should hang up on you now. Why do I bother talking to you? You're an asshole. You couldn’t even come to visit us before you left? You’re just gonna up and go off to another planet, and I have to settle for whatever two or three sentence emails you deign to send me in the data transmissions if and when SGO releases those to the families. It will be just like last time. And now you’re going and I won’t see you.”

“That’s why I was calling. I’ve got two days leave before I have to be here for deployment.”

“You should have called, Shithead.” Dave was winding down. Shithead was one of the more affectionate nicknames he had for John.

“I’m calling now, Davie. I didn’t know what I could say before. Nothing was certain until a couple of days ago. There’s a flight east to Washington in three hours, I can meet you and Janelle for dinner, and we can spend the day together tomorrow.”

“No, that can’t happen. The whole District of Baltimore is in lockdown, John. Nothing is coming in or going out. There’s a level three outbreak of shintsi. I’m not gonna see you before you go.”

“Damn it.” John ran a hand through his hair, a bit distraught by the turn of events. This was unexpected. Shintsi was one of the more virulent virus strains to had come through the gate in the early years before proper shielding was installed. Quarantine was the only way to keep it from spreading beyond the outbreak district. He should have checked more thoroughly when he was calling around for a seat on an outgoing flight. He hadn’t investigated exactly why there was a dearth of flights going directly into the Baltimore airport, and of course no one would volunteer such information over the phone. “You and Janelle aren’t sick?”

“No, we’re fine, thanks for asking, you jerk. We’re stuck at home. No one we know is ill. We might be in a safe zone this time,” Dave sighed heavily and fell silent. The last outbreak of shintsi in Maryland had taken their second father, both of them were hyper aware of the fact, it certainly didn’t need to be remarked upon. John listened to Dave breathe; allowing his brother the time he needed to calm down, when he was ready, he’d talk, or start on another round of insults, one could never tell which way he was likely to go. “So, they’re letting your sorry ass go back, eh?”

“Yeah, it took some doing, but yeah.”

“Well. I’m glad, John. I’ll miss you, but I know how much that city means to you. You suck donkey balls, but I want you to be happy. I know this is what you wanted.”

John gave a derisive snort at that, which Dave caught and processed. Just as John knew how to read in between his brother’s verbosity, Dave had learned to interpret the slightest of sounds and inflections from John. “What? What’s wrong? If you’re going, that means you won your case, right?”

“No. I lost, actually, and the appeals as well.” He couldn’t find the words to tell Dave about this thing with Mitchell. He didn’t mean to be difficult, to make Dave drag it out of him, but he just didn’t know how to tell him what had happened.

“They’re letting an unbonded _keri_ go to another galaxy?”

“Four, actually, this time. But I’m not one of them.”

“But, you said you were going. If you’re not one of the four…? Oh. OH! Damn them. Just… damn them to hell! I can’t believe this shit! They force bonded you?!?” The phone clattered to the floor on the other end. Dave was livid again, but this time on John’s behalf.

He could hear Janelle in the background, trying to calm Dave as his brother continued to curse and shout and throw things. David had always been inclined to violent temper tantrums, John had thrown a few doozies himself, but the younger Sheppard was prone to them. This was why John had been putting the call off, why he had not wanted to do this over the phone at all. He had known his brother wasn’t going to take this news well. He felt guilty that poor Janelle was going to have to cope with his overly emotional sibling alone. If John had been there in person, Dave could have at least taken a few swings at him to burn off the temper. He’d bloodied John’s nose plenty of times in the past, but John could take it, and it was the fastest and most effective way to diffuse Dave.

Janelle’s smooth honeyed southern accent came on the line. “John, sweetie, are you all right? David, just sit down. Now, sit down, count to a hundred and I’ll talk to John for a minute.”

“I’m fine Janelle. Really, tell him I’m fine. I’ll wait on the line while you go see to him.” John leaned back against the wall and stretched his legs out on the bed to wait for the storm to pass.

“We’ll fight this,” Dave’s voice was gravelly and tired when he picked up the phone again.

The quiet time had given John the break he needed to figure out what to say. “There’s nothing to fight. It’s a done deal. I’ve entered a contract bonding.” There, he’d said it, he’d gotten it out. The truth was out there.

“You did what? Of your own free will? You’ve accepted a _panor'eten_?”

John gulped, hearing the disappointment in his brother’s voice. John’s fight had been his dream, one he hadn’t had the will to go through on his own. Dave had been living vicariously through John’s freedom for years. Now he… no, now they both had to let it go. “Yeah, I’ve got a _panor'eten_ now.”

Dave sounded hurt when he accused, “You said you’d never do that. You said…”

“I didn’t have many options, Dave. They were going to force me. The guy they were going to give me over to is a sadistic bastard.”

“You could have left SGO.”

Though Dave couldn’t see him, John shook his head in denial. “No, I still have four years to go, they could sue for breech of contract or put me up on dereliction of duty charges and toss me in Quantico for treason. I couldn’t handle that, Dave. I wouldn’t survive prison, being locked up in a cell. Not even a minimum security facility like Leavenworth or the Pentagon.”

Dave wasn’t saying anything John hadn’t already thought when he told him, “You’re trading one prison for another.”

“I’ll have Atlantis. And the sky, I’ll still have the sky, Dave.” His brother fell silent for a while. “Don’t be mad at me, Davie.”

“I’m not mad, not really. I know you have to be hurting over this. I’m hurting for you. This wasn’t some teenaged rebellious whim, John; this was sixteen years of a conscious decision on your part not to bond.”

This was the other reason he hadn’t wanted to call; David could possibly make him cry. He was the only person in the world that had ever managed to do it. He knew where John’s deepest buttons were, and he always managed to push them. Dave hated being miserable alone, so he usually managed to find a way to drag John down to wallow along with him, since Janelle was onto his tricks and wouldn’t be manipulated by her _keri_.

“This might not be permanent. It’s still a contract bonding.”

Dave scoffed at the notion. “Sure. Until you knock her up and then, boom, it’s permanent.”

“Ain’t gonna happen.”

“Sterility problems?” Dave sounded strangely hopeful at the prospect that John might share his own trouble. Misery loved company, indeed.

“I don’t know yet, we haven’t discussed children. And I can’t knock _him_ up.”

Dave was quiet again. John had really been dreading this conversation, on so many levels. He had never discussed his sexuality with his little brother, had never told Dave he was attracted only to men. He was _keri_ , so there wasn’t a stigma attached to it, but it wasn’t the typical way of things. People still tended to pair up male-female, for the most part. “Is that going to be a problem for you, that your _panor'eten_ is a man?”

“No. It think it would have been worse if it had been a woman, actually.”

Dave, as usual, read into what John didn’t say as much as what he did say, and came to the correct conclusion. “Oh. I didn’t realize.”

“It never came up. It was never an issue before.” John had never brought any of his _keri_ playmates home with him when he was in Maryland. It just seemed wrong to be promiscuous in his brother’s house. He had always confined his play to the base and the safe houses nearby.

It was quiet again as Dave digested this new piece of the puzzle that was John Sheppard. “So, is he cute? Is he nice?”

John snorted, “Cute? Nice? What are you, a twelve year old girl?”

“So shoot me, you big friggin’ tough soldier. I’m twelve, I wanna know if he’s good looking. Is he a decent guy? He’s responsible for my only kin. I have a right to ask.”

“Oh, for… fine, he’s kinda hot. He’s been a good sport about all of this. He seems like a decent guy.”

“Wait… seems like? Don’t you already know? John, don’t you know him?”

“No. I just met him last week.”

“Janelle!” Dave wailed and dropped the phone again.

“John?”

“Hi again, Janelle.”

She sighed at him. “Now what set him off?"

It was easier to tell Janelle. He probably should have done that in the first place and let her break it to Dave, but that would have felt like he was being mean and inconsiderate to her. She didn’t deserve that, she was good to Dave. “I told him that I’m contract bonded; to a guy I just met last week.”

“Oh, goodness me! You’re so reckless at times, John Sheppard.”

“Put him back on the phone Janelle.”

“How could you do this?” Dave demanded when he came back on the line. “This would have broken Mother’s heart, Dad’s too. How could you tie yourself to a perfect stranger, didn’t you learn anything from Mother’s bonding to our blood father?”

“Listen, Dave. I was going to tell you all of this in person, but thanks to the stintsi, I can’t. The guy is an old friend of Evan’s and I would trust Evan with my life; I didn’t pick some random _panor_ off the street. He’s an officer, and a decent guy, and he stuck his neck out for me. Because of him, I still have a job, I still have MY job, and more importantly I still have Atlantis. I left a lot of unfinished business out there. This is a way for me to keep going. I’m swallowing my pride and putting up with it.”

Dave made some unhappy noises, but backed down in the face of John’s tirade. When John went back at him with words, Dave knew he’d pushed his brother too far. “What’s his name?”

“Cameron Mitchell.”

“As in Commodore Mitchell, the new head of the Atlantis Expedition? Judas on a pogo stick, John, you’re bonding with your boss? Are you insane?”

John thudded his head against the wall in frustration. He wanted to hang up; he was not enjoying this phone call in any way, shape or form. “I wasn’t exactly looking at it that way when it started. We have an agreement, a contract. This is on paper only, Dave. Work isn’t going to get in the way of personal stuff. We can’t afford for that to happen.”

There was knocking at John’s door. He got up off the bed and went to open it, taking the folded piece of paper the young ensign at the door handed him. Cradling his cell phone to his ear as Dave went off on a rant about John’s stupidity and the possible ramifications of sleeping with one’s immediate superiors, he read the note.

  
_Your phone is busy and your message inbox is full.  
Come to my office when you’re free.  
Cam_   


John nodded to the ensign, who turned and ran off down the corridor. “Hey, Dave, I hate to cut you off but I’ve just been called upstairs to a meeting, probably some last minute deployment stuff before everyone heads off for their furlough. I’ll give you a call before I leave the Milky Way.” He was actually relieved to have an excuse to end the conversation.

“Okay. I’m going to look up everything I can find on this Cameron Mitchell, and I’d better not find any dirt,” Dave’s voice was threatening. “I’ll be waiting for your call.” And he would be; his little brother was tenacious like that.

“I promise. I’m sorry I won’t be able to get home again. Please kiss Janelle for me.”

“I will. She’s waving goodbye,” Dave paused and then said quickly, “Please be safe and come home and for fuck’s sake, don’t die out there in the middle of nowhere. I love you John, you do know that, right? I didn’t mean what I said earlier, I don’t hate you.”

“I know kiddo. I love you too. Take care.”


	7. Weasels to Waffles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, who wants porn? Who wants nekked flyboys? Your wish is my command.

John tapped on Mitchell’s office door and cracked it open to peek inside. The office was startlingly bare. He glanced at his _panor'eten_ , seated behind the desk and asked, “What happened in here? You get robbed?”

“That little weasel of yours sent another little weasel in here to organize me.”

Understanding dawned. “Ah, Lorne, I see. Which of his minions did he assign to you?”

Cam actually looked a bit dismayed as he waved his hands at his nearly vacant office and exclaimed, “I don’t know! That’s the worst part. My stuff is gone and I don’t know where it went and I don’t know where to even start looking for it. Or who took it.”

John smirked and nodded knowingly. “Ah ha, the invisible minion. That would be Davis.”

“What? Really? Lorne has an invisible minion?” They explored outer space for a living, Mitchell had seen and heard about odder things.

“It seems you have him now. You should be honored; Paul Davis is Lorne’s personal favorite. I’m actually surprised he assigned him over without a fight, although, now that I think about it, this might be Evan’s way of apologizing for the whole bonding thing. Did you call me up here to help you look for your stuff?”

“Nah. I suppose I’ll catch up with it in Atlantis, I don’t really need it, I’m heading home for a visit today.” Mitchell shut off his computer and stood up.

“Lucky you. I’m stuck here.”

Cam tilted his head, looking confused. “I thought you were going to Maryland? You’re on the flight list.”

“I have to cancel it. The District of Baltimore is in a quarantine lockdown, I can’t get home.”

The Commodore leaned back against his desk and regarded him thoughtfully. “That’s a damned shame, John, your last Earthside furlough for three years.”

John nodded in agreement, and wondered what he was going to do with himself until it was time to leave Earth.

If he didn’t know better, John might have thought Mitchell had been reading his mind when his _panor'eten_ suggested, “You could come home with me, if you want. There’s plenty of room, and my momma is an awesome cook. You could use a few good home cooked meals, you’re too skinny.”

“Now you sound like CB. I wouldn’t want to intrude.” It would be weird. This was a contract bonding. A year from now, he and Mitchell were going their separate ways, he probably shouldn’t be ingratiating himself with his family and making things more difficult for Mitchell later.

“It wouldn’t be an intrusion. Besides, once I break the news to my mother, she’ll be all over me about not bringing you home, if I don’t. I figure I’m heading off a snit at the pass.”

Thinking about his earlier phone call home, John grew sullen. “I know what you mean. My brother was a little put out with me at the news.”

“So, save me from Momma?” Cam smiled hopefully at him.

John tried to ignore the smile, but he felt his will to resist crumbling. He tried a deflection tactic. “Is this why you called me up here, to save you from your mother?”

“I was gonna grill you about possible suspects in the mass disappearance of my paperwork, but you flipped instantly and gave him right up. My culprit is Paul Davis. We’ll have to work on your torture resistance, Sub Commander.”

“Maybe you just have really effective interrogation techniques, Commodore.” Oh, for Pete’s sake, was he flirting? Mentally, John kicked himself.

Cam chuckled and then blurted out, "Come to Kansas.”

Why not? It would give him two days to know his _panor'eten_ better. And, home cooked meals in the bargain. “Okay.”

Mitchell blinked, not expecting Sheppard to actually agree to this impromptu plan. He’d called his mother and left a message that he was coming home. He had timed his call for a time when he knew she’d be out at her weekly bowling meet, because he was a coward and didn’t want her interrogating him over the phone. “Cool. Go grab your gear. We’re wheels up in an hour; I’ll meet you in the parking lot in forty minutes.”

As John went back to his quarters to collect his backpack, he tried to figure out what had made him capitulate so quickly. The prospect of meeting Mitchell’s ‘passel’ of kin made him nervous, it made him very nervous. He figured he’d plaster on his best ‘meet the natives’ smile and make nice. He guessed he’d agreed to this out of curiosity, because he wanted to see what Mitchell was like outside the base, when he was just Cam, and not the Commodore. Seeing him on his home ground would give John a better idea of what he might be like on their downtime in Atlantis. It was simply good tactics to know your enemy, though he did not think of Mitchell as an enemy. He hoped he never had cause to think Mitchell was an enemy - that would just be so many levels of bad.

~*~

“I thought you said wheels up,” John drawled as he eyed the Kiowa transport helicopter warming up on the tarmac.

With a mischievous grin, Mitchell informed him, “Rank has some privileges, and when I informed dispatch that I had my own qualified rotor pilot, they were all too happy to save us several torturous hours of driving from the airport, which would have been hours of corn fields as far as the eye can see, in case you’ve never driven through Kansas. I thought you might like the opportunity to fly once more before we left for Atlantis.”

John nodded, speechless at the kindness. Mitchell slapped him on the shoulder and they jogged over to the waiting bird.

John’s heart lightened as he went through the preflight. Puddle jumpers were great, they were amazing, but there was something about helicopters that John loved, that he missed out in Pegasus. He felt in touch with the machine around him now in a way that was different from the seamless connection he felt to the Ancient flying machines. There was something inherently tactile about flying choppers, about no inertial dampeners to take away the sensations of flight. Keying the toggle on the dash, he smiled over at Cam as he radioed the tower that they were taking off.

~*~

Mitchell watched his _keri_ adroitly handling the controls of the Kiowa. He showed no hesitation, no wariness, no doubt as he went through the preflight and takeoff routines. Sheppard knew what he was doing; this was a man in control of the situation, and his quiet confidence was putting Cam completely at ease.

Then John had toggled the mike to radio the tower, glanced over at Cam, and smiled before he slid his sunglasses in place. For the first time, Cam got a glimpse of the real John Sheppard; saw what he looked like when he was happy, when he was being himself. And that smile had nearly taken his breath away.

Cameron Mitchell was in so much trouble.

~*~

The flight took a little over four hours from Colorado Springs. Using the headsets, they talked about a lot of inconsequential stuff, old television programs from the days before the info net, movies, books, and music. They found they had a lot in common.

Cam convinced John that he had to watch an old science fiction show from the days before the Gate had been activated, about time travelers hopping around fixing history, called Time Swirl. Mitchell admitted to being a bit of a fanatic for the program. He had all six years worth of episodes on his data drive, and they made tentative plans to have a set night each week to watch an episode, once they got to Atlantis. John was certain he could convince McKay and CB to come, one of them was usually good for popcorn or some other snacks. Movie night had become a welcome diversion in Atlantis the first time around, John saw no reason why the tradition couldn’t continue.

Reluctantly, John admitted that he played guitar and that he could sing a little, and that he had a deep and abiding love for Johnny Cash and that he also secretly liked Elvis Presley’s music. Laughing, Mitchell had teased him for being a country boy at heart. Cam liked rock music, any kind, hard rock, metal, rock and roll. He loved drums and guitars. He, however, was not shy about singing, and he belted out a few tunes as they discussed music, whenever John admitted to not knowing a particular song.

The main benefit of coming in by copter was that they could put down right on the farm; there was no need to waste precious furlough time at the airport or military base going through security checkpoints. At Cam’s direction, John set them down lightly in the tilled field beside the house. By the time the rotors stopped whirring, there were half a dozen people standing outside the house watching them.

“Ready?” Cam asked as he climbed out, dropped his headset on the seat and reached into the back for his bag.

“As I’ll ever be. Lead on.” John stretched, his bones creaking in protest as he did so, four hours in the hot seat was a long time to be in one position.

A pleasant looking woman with ash blonde hair separated from the crowd as they approached and squealed with delight, running forward to throw her arms around Cam. He hugged her tightly, and swung her around in a wide circle. “Hello, Momma.”

“Put me down. Let me look at you!” She laughed as he set her on her feet and cupped his cheeks, and then hugged him again. “It’s so good to see you.” She patted his arms and then noticed John standing by quietly watching their reunion with his backpack slung over one shoulder. “You brought company.” Ordinarily, the SGO pilot would have dropped Cam and run, he’d never brought anyone home from the base before, other than Daniel and Sam, that one time years ago, when he’d come home for his father’s funeral.

“John Sheppard. I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Mitchell,” John said as he stuck out his hand.

“Wendy. Or Momma. Everyone calls me Momma.” She took his hand and shook it, then covered both of their hands with her free hand and squeezed his between hers before releasing it. No one had ever done that to him before. It had been nice. He smiled shyly at her welcoming look.

“Oh, this one’s a heartbreaker.” Wendy reached up and pinched John’s cheek. She turned and waved towards the others by the back door. “Everyone’s waiting to see you, Cameron.”

Cam smiled and waved in greeting to the rest of his family, but reached out to take Wendy’s arm and hold her back, so they could have a bit of privacy, the last they were likely to get for a while. “Momma. Wait. I didn’t want to tell you over the phone, I didn’t know how to tell you, exactly.”

“Tell me what, baby boy? Oh, goodness, you’re not sick, are you?” She grabbed his arms with both her hands and looked up into his face, searching for signs of illness.

“No, no, Momma, I’m fine, healthy as a horse.” Cam ran a hand through his hair and chewed his lip. He’d rehearsed five different speeches, five different versions of how he was going to explain John to his mother, but none of them were coming to mind, none of them were the right words, now that the moment was here. “John’s _keri_.”

Wendy glanced over in surprise, _keri_ pilots were rare, and she’d seen that John had been the pilot. “How unusual. My Frank was _keri_ , I do miss that man something awful.” She seemed at a loss as to what to say, not knowing what was going on, but trying to be polite.

“Momma, John’s my _keri_.”

“Your _keri_? Why Cameron, I didn’t think you’d ever…” Raising a hand to her throat she gulped, fighting back tears. “Well, let me welcome you to the family, John.” Wendy nudged Cam aside and pulled John into her arms, hugging him tightly.

John gave Cam a helpless look over Wendy’s head and mouthed the question, “Why’d you tell her that?”

“Look how happy she is,” Mitchell replied aloud and then shrugged at John’s silent question; he had three years before he’d have to tell his family the truth. He and John would be a galaxy away from the hub of House Mitchell, there was time enough to explain things later, if he needed to.

Sheppard found himself hugged a half a dozen times more by Cam’s brother Cole and his _keri_ , and the aunt and cousins that were present, and then again when another half dozen kin showed up out of nowhere. Names flew past him; he would never remember any of them. He was petted and fawned over by the Mitchell clan as a heaping plate of food was shoved in front of him and he was shown to one of the chairs in the kitchen and forced down at the big butcher block table. Cam hadn’t been lying, the food was good. He particularly liked the buttered corn bread. He earned a warm smile and nod of approval from Wendy when he reached for a second piece from the plate in front of Cameron.

He felt like he had lost a protective shield when he finished his food and the plate was cleared away. It had been a meager little shield, but he admitted to himself he had been hiding behind it. Conversation flew; the Mitchells talked over and around each other, laughter intermingling with arguments. John found it hard to follow. All evening, people patted him, hugged him or spontaneously kissed his cheek in passing. Unused to the affectionate attention, John grew silent and skittish as the night wore on.

“Do you come from a big family, John?” a cousin, Linda or Lena or maybe it was Lisa asked him.

“No. There’s just my brother, his _panor'eten_ , and me.”

Clucking her tongue, Wendy immediately identified the source of John’s quiet withdrawal over the course of the evening. “Well, I suspect we must be overwhelming, taken all at once, you poor thing. Cameron, take your John upstairs for a while, he’s had enough of our tomfoolery for today.”

“Yes, Momma,” Cameron replied dutifully and crooked a finger at John.

Gratefully, John followed Cam from the room, after giving a nod and wave in a general farewell to the crowd. The carpet on the stair treads was worn from years of use, the railing smoothed by the passing of years and hundreds of hands. Cam pushed open a door to a cheery room with a thick blue rug, blue walls and a cream colored bedspread on the double bed. There was a pretty winter landscape on the wall and antique pottery and knick knacks scattered throughout the room. A big, worn overstuffed chair took up one corner, and John crossed over to it immediately and sank into the soft cushions with a relieved sigh.

Mitchell dropped their bags on floor by the dresser. John had not even realized Cam had collected their stuff; he must be tired, he was usually more observant than that. “Too much, huh?”

“A lot. Okay, yeah, too much. I thought the Athosians were pretty in-your-face, but Teyla’s people have got nothing on yours, Mitchell.” John toed off his boots and stretched his legs out, wiggling his toes. He watched Mitchell dig around in his bag and pull stuff out to set on the dresser. John realized that Cam had not looked at him, and that he was puttering, and came to the conclusion that he was doing so because he was nervous. “What’s the matter?”

Mitchell put down the small model car he had been toying with and turned away from the dresser to finally meet John’s eyes. “Are you pissed at me for introducing you as my _keri_?”

“Nah. I get it. There was no point in trying to explain over and over to all those people that this was just temporary,” at John’s words, Cam relaxed; so he’d said the right thing, apparently.

Mitchell tilted his head towards the bed. “You all right with sharing? I can probably dig up a sleeping bag somewhere if you want the bed to yourself.”

“Do you snore or steal covers?”

“Uh, yeah, both,” Cam admitted sheepishly.

“Me too, according to McKay, which is why we don’t share quarters on away missions anymore. This should make for a fun night.” John yawned, tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

“You okay here for a while? I’m gonna head down and talk to Momma and Aunt Didi for a bit.”

John nodded and waved him off.

By the time Cam got to the kitchen, most of the crowd had cleared out, and as he suspected, only his mother and Aunt Didi were left at the table, sipping their tea. Wendy tapped her finger on a plate of cookies to draw Cam’s attention to them and he grinned happily as he poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove and dropped into the chair beside his mother.

“He’s quiet, your _keri_ ,” Aunt Didi said, stirring her tea.

Cam nodded and reached for the cookies. “Mmm. Peanut butter.”

His aunt smacked his arm. “Don’t change the subject.”

“I think we overwhelmed him, like Momma said earlier.”

“Probably so. A _keri_ wouldn’t get to his rank if there wasn’t a brain in that spiky little head of his. My goodness, he’s been licked by a whole herd of cows,” Didi pursed her lips and shook her head.

“Aunt Didi, are you saying silence equals stupidity? I have to disagree ‘cause I don’t think that’s necessarily so.”

“No, Cameron, I said no such thing. But still waters run deep, and one must wonder what’s going on in those depths. Well, my little love, I think you likely have some things you’d like to say to your mother without this old busybody around. So I’ll say goodnight now, before you get your panties in a twist at something I say and take it out on Wendy.” Didi stood, kissed the top of his head and then left the room.

“That boy is plumb worn out, Cameron,” Wendy said when they were alone, though she had likely already speculated over all of this with her sister before Cam had come downstairs.

“I know. It’s been a rough few weeks for him.” Cam took a deep breath and decided honesty was best. “Listen, I don’t like keeping things from you, so I should probably tell you now that this is a contract bonding, Momma. It’s all just on paper.”

Wendy nodded as she watched him thoughtfully. “I knew something was off. There was something not right between you, it was nothing I could put my finger on, and now I know what it is, you’re hovering in the early phase, the bonding is incomplete. Why, Cameron? Why would you agree to something like this?”

“To protect him, he needed someone to protect him,” he whispered the answer to the same question he had been asking himself over and over since this whole thing started.

“That’s a _panor's_ job, Cameron. It’s hardly a reason to enter into this kind of relationship.

“His friend came to me, a man I knew years ago when he was one of my students at Flight School. This guy, Evan Lorne, was desperate, Momma. His friend John was in trouble and needed someone with rank and connections to step in and protect him. John spent weeks in court fighting to get himself emancipated, but he lost his case and then all of the appeals. They were going to force bond him.”

Wendy gasped at that and covered her mouth with one hand. “They’re still doing that?”

“Yeah, they do, in some cases. Momma, I couldn’t stand by and watch them destroy John. He’s a member of my team now, for better or worse, he’s in charge of the military contingent for Atlantis. He’s got something, something the Council and SGO aren’t seeing. He somehow kept the original Expedition alive and intact, he brought most of them home. After reading the mission reports, I don’t know that I would have been able to do the same. Momma, Jack O’Neill didn’t even manage that with the Abydos Expedition, and SGO practically canonized him.”

“You saw something in those reports, something worth saving.”

Cam nodded. “They were willing to send him back to Atlantis, but I was afraid if they force bonded him, it might break him. There was a chance that the _panor_ they were handing him over to might have refused to allow him to go, which would have been a loss to the Expedition, one I was not prepared to accept. I need him on that mission, I need his experience in Pegasus, and I need him to be himself when he goes, not someone else’s puppet, not a shell of the man that led them for three years.”

“You didn’t expect to like him, did you?”

His mother saw right through him, she always had. “No. No I didn’t. I thought he’d be a jerk, quite frankly. The man in the files that I read is not the man that’s upstairs right now, he isn’t anything like I expected him to be.”

Wendy clasped his hand. “I know, believe me I know, that the First Stage, the Initial Phase can do strange things to you. Cameron, are you sure this isn’t the hormones and chemicals affecting you?”

“We’ve both been shot up with inhibitors, to stop this from going any further than the Initial Phase. I’m more clear-headed now than I was a week ago. If you had asked me then, I wouldn’t have been sure.”

She patted his hand. “Take it slowly. See what happens, son. I’ll keep this between us, it would confuse the rest of the family too much, I think. Head on upstairs and get some rest. We’ve got a big day tomorrow, we’re throwing you a proper sendoff, a picnic and barbecue. Now, I have pies to bake, so shoo!”

“Good night, Momma, I love you.”

She kissed his cheek as he bent to kiss her goodnight and then playfully swatted him for stealing another cookie.

~*~

When Cam got back to the room, John was curled in a ball on the chair. He looked fragile in sleep, unguarded and defenseless. Cam turned down the bed and rifled through his bag for clean boxers and a tank top, which he took to the bathroom with him to change into after he cleaned up for bed.

He crossed to the chair and reached out to shake John’s arm. “John? Hey, John? C’mon, buddy, you should sleep in the bed.” He wrestled John’s legs out from under him, and then tugged on his arms, pulling him up off the chair. He was not carrying John around like a little kid, despite the temptation to do so. John was slight enough of frame that Cam probably could carry him with ease, but no. John grumbled in protest but shuffled along when Cam pushed him gently to the bed and then flopped down onto it, arms and legs akimbo. Once he was prone, it was easy for Cam to strip off John’s uniform pants and shirt, leaving him clad in his shorts and t shirt.

“What am I going to do with you?” Cam muttered as he stared down at the sleeping _keri_ sprawled across the bed... across his bed. Climbing up beside John, he reached over to shut the light off and pulled the covers up over them. Settling down, he tried to ignore the soft snoring near his ear, and was grateful for the shots Beckett had insisted on giving them the prior week. Last week, he probably wouldn’t have been able to resist the sight of Sheppard all loose and vulnerable and inviting in his bed.

~*~

John woke, pinned to the mattress, with the sound of a buzz saw grinding near his ear. He opened his eyes, blinked at the sunlight filtering through lace curtains and wondered for a few moments where he was. He hadn’t woken to sunlight since coming back to Earth from Atlantis; his room on base was twenty levels below ground. He quickly identified the noise as Cameron snoring near his ear. John had rolled onto his side during the night and Mitchell was spooned up behind him. The weights holding him down were Mitchell’s arm around his waist and one heavy thigh and calf curled over and around his. He didn’t remember going to bed, though. The last he remembered, he had been sitting in the chair in the corner, while Cam moved around the room.

He was puzzling over this as Cam stopped snoring and began to shift in his sleep, pressing even closer to John, and, hello, morning wood! This was going to be so awkward when Cameron woke up. John was debating whether to wriggle out of his _panor'eten's_ arms or stay still and fake sleep when Cam snorted and his grip tightened. It was too late to flee, he was awake.

“G’d morning.” Cam said, and the huskiness of his voice, combined with the warm weight of him pressed against John made him shiver lightly. He was in a very dangerous position at the moment.

Warily John answered, staying as still as possible, “Morning.”

Cameron, damn him, began trailing his hand up and down John’s middle, lazily caressing him through his t shirt. How had he gotten out of his uniform? He glanced over to see his duty pants and shirt tossed on the chair in the corner.

“Mm, I smell bacon. I guess Momma’s already cooking, she’s got a picnic planned today, so breakfast will be early.”

Mitchell showed no inclination towards releasing his hold. There was little sense in ignoring the situation, John knew that Cam knew that John knew he had a raging hard on, it was impossible to ignore. “You neglected to mention that in addition to the snoring and blanket thievery, you’re also a damned cuddler.”

Laughter brushed across his ear. “You taking issue with that? You want me to let go?” Mitchell hadn’t moved away, and was still tracing circles on John’s belly. His voice was low and full of promise as he said, “Just say the word.”

Damn it. Mitchell was throwing the ball back in his court, whatever happened going forward would hinge on this, John knew it. If he pushed him away, he had no doubt in his mind that Mitchell would abide by the terms of the contract, the letter of the law and this would be a paper bonding in truth. Did he want that?

He’d been thinking about this for a week, since the incident in the infirmary when he had passed out and come back around to find Mitchell’s face hovering over his, with true concern in his eyes. It had been kind of nice, for a change, having someone else doing the worrying, someone else being the strong one. His biggest fear was that this was all the fault of the stupid _keri_ hormones, that he was reacting to Cam because of the stupid mating instinct.

“John?” Cam was worried. Already, John could decipher worry in Mitchell’s voice. He thought over everything that had happened between them so far, weighed past action and words against the possible consequences of taking this further than just a paper bonding. They had a contract. It wasn’t illegal for them to get involved in a physical relationship. In fact, it was expected that they explore those aspects of the relationship so that Mitchell could make an informed decision about making it permanent; before Cam let him go at the end of the year as agreed.

When John remained silent, still lost in thought, Mitchell stopped stroking his stomach and began to edge back away from him.

“Stay,” John blurted out.

“You sure?”

“No. But stay there. Just let me think a minute.”

“I won’t hold you to anything, John, if you want to see where this goes. If you still want out when the contract is up, I’ll release you.”

All John had to go on was Cameron’s word. The contract bonding put all of the decision making into the _panor'eten's_ hands. Sheppard would not have a legal leg to stand on in a year if he said he wanted out and Mitchell denied him.

“You might regret this, when we get to Atlantis.”

Cam moved his leg, rubbing his knees along John’s thigh. He shrugged. “I might already regret it.”

His will was crumbling as Mitchell resumed caressing him. “This was supposed to be on paper, Cameron. Paper means no touching.”

“I think we might be able to enjoy some of the non-paperish elements of the contract. I’m game if you are.” Cam leaned in and began to nuzzle at the short hair on the back of John’s neck, nosing his way across the skin, drawing in his _keri's_ scent.

When he lightly ran his tongue along the same path, John shuddered and gasped out, “Oh, the hell with it.” He then flipped over to face Mitchell, his eyes searching the _panor's_. John reached up to clasp Cam’s face and drew him in, pressing their lips together. As Cam’s hands came up to clasp his shoulders, John licked at his lips, then softly bit and sucked, and nudged with his tongue, demanding entrance. Cam opened for him and John licked inside, mapping his _panor’eten’s_ mouth with his tongue. Mitchell let out a deep groan as their tongues became entwined.

Pulling their bodies apart slightly as he claimed Cam with his mouth, John released his hold on his partner’s cheeks and let them slide down his neck and shoulders to rest on his chest. He let one hand remain in place, holding position as he explored with the other, stroking down over Mitchell’s body. He came back to the arms left bare by Mitchell’s sleeveless shirt, kneading the muscle of his biceps before caressing his way back down. “Off,” he demanded into Cam’s mouth. “Off,” he repeated, tugging at the hem of the shirt.

“Uh huh,” Cam mumbled, reaching down to grab the tank top and pull it up. When John pulled away, reluctantly breaking the kiss to allow him to tug the shirt over his head, he saw that Cam’s eyes were unfocused and a little glazed, the pupils wide and dark, hardly any of the bright blue showing any longer.

“More.” John dove back in, taking Cam’s mouth again in a bruising and demanding kiss. He had one hair fisted in Cam’s short sandy hair, moving his partner’s head to suit him by that grip. He couldn’t get close enough to Cam, he pressed up against him grinding his hips down against Cam’s groin, whimpering when it wasn’t enough.

“Okay, cowboy, okay,” there was tolerant humor in Cam’s voice as he wrapped his arms around John and bucked up against him, an attempt to distract him a little so he could move them. He rolled, needing to struggle a bit as John seemed very reluctant to let Cam on top. But Cam was persistent and eventually John ended up flat on his back with Mitchell perched over him.

John was shaking now, his entire body vibrating with desire in a way he had never felt before, and for the first time, he understood need. He needed for Cam to continue touching him.

“I want… I need…” John whined a little in the back of his throat, reaching for Cam’s face again as he wriggled against him in a parody of mating, his hips thrusting up as he clearly indicated what he needed.

“Shhh. Okay. I know, I know, we’ll get you there.” Cam took John’s mouth, his tongue mimicking the movements John was making with his hips, thrusting slowly in and out, tasting fully, learning the flavor of his _keri_. Damn, this was getting him close, and it was just kissing. He pushed aside thoughts of what fully naked romping with his _keri_ would be like, such a line of thinking would send him over the edge for certain. He pulled his mouth from John’s and buried his face in Sheppard’s neck, breathing deeply as he struggled to gain some measure of control again. John’s arms came around him, holding him, stroking his back.

Once he was under some semblance of control, Cam forced the pace back down. He ran his hands through John’s hair, lightly massaging his scalp before moving his fingers down along John’s neck and collarbone, touching, tracing, learning. John leaned up, trying to fasten his mouth onto whatever part of Cam’s anatomy was in reach. When he latched onto Cam’s earlobe and began to suck, the pace got ratcheted back up again really quickly. His ears were one of Cam’s more sensitive erogenous zones, and John had accidentally tripped into the one place guaranteed to drive Cam a little nuts and make him lose control.

Cameron groaned loudly and let out a harsh, “Oh, damn, John!” Driven right over the edge by the wetness on and in his ear as John laved his tongue over the sensitive skin, he came in his shorts. A surprising development, as that certainly hadn’t happened in a number of years. At least now he would come down enough to see to John’s needs. His _keri_ definitely needed relief soon, he was actively whimpering in Cam’s ear now.

“John, shhh, quit that now,” Cam said as he snickered and twisted his head to dislodge John from his ear. “Leggo a second. Let me…” Sheppard had suddenly become a clingy octopus, grabbing Mitchell’s hands tightly and wrapping his legs around Cam’s waist. Cameron laughed, “John, let go of my hand.”

John did, but he pouted about it, his lower lip jutting out as he glared up at Cam, now holding himself up and away from John’s body. Mitchell snaked his hand down John’s t-shirt and belly until he got to the waistband of his boxers. He dipped down inside and took John’s hard cock in his hand. John gave a shout and immediately bucked upwards, letting loose with a babbling string of, “Oh yes, please,” repeated on a loop as Cam stroked him until he too peaked and came messily all over Mitchell’s hand.

“Okay?” Cam asked as he rolled off John and stretched out alongside him, wiping his hand on his discarded undershirt.

“I think so,” John answered breathily, staring up at the ceiling as he sprawled beside his _panor'eten_.

They were silent for a little while, each lost in thought as they slowly calmed.

“That was a little unexpected,” John broke the silence and looked over at Cameron. “Pretty hot, pretty fast.”

Mitchell had folded one arm up under his chin and was openly staring at John. “I’d like to take all the credit, my ego would love the boost, but it probably had a lot to do with _keri_ First Phase. You hit hard, zero to sixty instantly.” Cam reached over to brush his fingers across John’s forehead before tapping at the center and chiding lightly, “Don’t start over thinking it.”

“Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t even reciprocate. I should help you out.” A guilty look crossed John’s face and he reached a hand out to Cam.

Catching John’s hand, Cam gave it a squeeze and shook his head as he smiled at his _keri_. “Are you kidding? Dude, I creamed my pants. It’s all good. Really. For future reference though; please avoid the ears until you’re ready for it all to come to a screeching halt.”

John blinked and then grinned broadly. “Got it. So, I guess that means you wouldn’t object to playing again.”

Returning the grin, Cam leaned over and kissed John once more before breaking away to slide out of the bed. “Nope. I think I’d be a fool to object, and Momma Wendy didn’t raise no fools.” He gathered clean clothes and went to the bedroom door. “There’s a shower across the hall you can use, I’m going to go down and use the one on the main floor.”

As Cam opened the door and stepped into the hall, John heard Wendy shout from downstairs, “Cameron, breakfast in fifteen minutes.”

John’s eyes were wide as he asked, “Was she listening?”

Laughing, Mitchell nodded, and then nearly bent double at John’s horrified and absolutely scandalized expression. “The door, John. She was waiting to hear the door open and me moving around. The floor squeaks here, see?” Cam bounced in place, and the floor did indeed let out a squeak. “I found out a few years ago that she never let Dad fix it because it was the perfect alarm when I was a teenager.”

Mollified, John waved Cam away and got up to take his own shower. At least now he’d be able to face Wendy over the breakfast table. Still, as he stepped into the hallway, he gave an extra little bounce to test for himself.

“Good morning John! Hurry up, breakfast is almost ready,” Wendy’s cheerful disembodied voice floated up the stairs.

“How’d she do that?” John wasn’t certain if he was more or less freaked out by his _panor'eten's_ mother now.

~*~

House Mitchell was huge. John was certain that there were counties in America that didn’t have a population as large as the number of people crowded on the banks of the river that afternoon, each and every one of them related in some way to his _panor’eten_. Sitting on a lawn chair, sipping a cold beer and watching the kids playing kickball, he wondered if their numbers were due to the strength of the Mitchell family genetics or to luck that they had not been razed by the plagues that had wiped out so many other families.

John had never seen so many children gathered together in once place. Schools had been closed in the sixties, in the wake of the plagues. All classes were now taught over the Net. There had to be thirty children of various ages present at the barbecue. Here on Earth, the plagues had affected the numbers, in Pegasus, the Wraith cullings kept the populations low

John learned a few new things that day as he watched the children and the members of House Mitchell. He learned that little girls possess a squeal of a pitch that must be just below that of canine range and at the upper register of human hearing. He learned that bouncing a baby after he has eaten is a Very Bad Idea, with the second part of the lesson being that baby vomit smells awful. He learned that teenaged girls travel in noisy little packs and ask embarrassing questions and giggle a lot. He learned that the entire Mitchell clan is completive to a fault. And, finally, he learned that Cam Mitchell is just a giant goofy kid.

This was evidenced once more when Cam ran up to him, sweating and panting and grabbed his hand to pull him out of his folding chair and drag him along after him. “C’mon, we’re playing softball. You’re on my team!”

When it became evident that John could throw (self defense learned in basic training: it was best to get the hand grenade as far as physically possible away from your body) they made him pitch to Cameron’s catching. They soon had a complex set of hand signals worked out between them, and almost won the game, though victory was snatched from their hands at the last moment by a lucky hit by Cam’s brother Cole.

By the time they returned to the house after the sun had gone down, they were stuffed to the gills, sweaty and exhausted, but happy. It had been one of the best days in John’s memory. He’d felt like part of something, the way he felt when he was in Atlantis, like he belonged.

They both slept soundly that night, waking to the smell of sausages frying. “Does Momma live in that kitchen?” John poked Cam in the side as the smell wafted up and woke him.

“Pretty much. She loves feeding people. I strongly suspect that it might be a mental illness.” Cam smiled and reached a hand out to stroke John’s cheek. “I hear the banging of the griddle, which means no time for playing, she’ll be calling us down for waffles soon.”

“I’m almost afraid to walk around in this house; you all have supernatural hearing abilities.”

Cam laughed and rolled off the bed. “C’mon, waffles are awesome. We might be able to convince her to make us some to freeze to take with us.”

“You can freeze waffles?”

“Sure. There might even be some in the deep freeze out in the barn, we’ll do a commando raid before we go, load up a cooler. There’s a freezer unit on Atlantis we can shove stuff in, isn’t there?”

“Yeah, plenty, all over the place. Though it might be better not to speculate at what the original purpose behind some of them in the labs might have been for.”

“Oh, and ew, I don’t want to know.”

~*~

“Momma, have you ever considered a career in catering using bizarre ingredients while living on an alien city in another galaxy?” John asked as he dug into an unprecedented (for him) third plate of waffles.

She tittered at him and waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, you.”

“I think we should kidnap your mother, Cameron.” John was half serious about the plan. He was trying to work out the logistics of smuggling a civilian into SGO in his head, and considered calling Rodney to ask for his opinion on the matter. Rodney might just kill for Momma Mitchell’s waffles, if he ever experienced them.

“Right. So I’d have both a _keri_ and my mother to worry about,” Cam smirked as he bit into a sausage link.

“You don’t have to worry about me when we get to Atlantis,” John remarked, sawing a sausage in half and swirling it through a puddle of maple syrup on his plate.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Nope,” John shook his head and replied airily, “You’ll see.”

Busily making a batch of waffles that they could take with them when they left that afternoon, Wendy pointed a spatula at him, “In all the excitement, I plumb forgot you’ve already been to Atlantis, John. Tell me something about it, something that wasn’t on the Netnews.”

“She talks to me,” John said eventually, after considering his answer. When Wendy, Didi and Cameron all looked up at him in surprise, he amended quickly, “Not in words, not in any way I can really understand, just whispering at the edge of my mind, really. But I can tell when something is wrong; I can hear when she’s off. I can’t explain it.”

“That certainly wasn’t on the Newsnet,” Wendy said, and Didi nodded in agreement.

“Nor was it any of the mission reports. Does anyone else know about this, experience this?” Cam was all business now.

Fearing he had misspoken, John shrugged. It was too late to take back his words, and Cameron would dig around and ask questions, so John ‘fessed up what he knew. “Markham reported headaches when the city was damaged; Lorne said he feels the tickling, back here,” John waved a hand near the back of his head. “CB too.”

“CB?” Wendy asked, sliding another waffle onto Cameron’s empty plate. He automatically reached for the butter and syrup. John wondered how many waffles Cam was going to eat before he finally stopped his mother from refilling his plate. “What’s a CB?”

“Carson Beckett, he’s our CMO, the chief medical officer. Lorne, Markham and CB have the strongest expressions of the Ancient gene of anyone on the expedition.” John sat back in his chair, his belly overfilled.

“Aside from you, you mean.”

John shrugged it off, or tried to, but Cam was staring at him intently, and so he answered, “Yeah, except for me. Jack O’Neill is the strongest on record, but he won’t go to Atlantis.”

“No. Jack wouldn’t go. He’s done with Gate travel,” Mitchell agreed sadly. John knew there was a story there; Cam was privy to what had truly happened to the members of the Abydos Expedition, perhaps he could get it out of him one day.

“No more, Momma. I’ll barf,” Cam waved her away as she approached with another waffle perched on her spatula. John waved both his hands over his plate as she cast a look his way and held up the waffle.

“Are you sure we can’t kidnap her?” John asked in a loud stage whisper. “I like the waffles.”

Wendy laughed again. “And miss my bowling and church? No, that kind of adventure is for you young people. I’m set in my ways. I’ll stay here on Earth.”

As promised, later that afternoon, Cam raided the deep freezer and loaded a cooler with packages of cryptically labeled food. “Maybe we’ll find a ZPM or two this trip and we’ll be able to come back and forth and get supplies. Momma would send us care packages.”

“Wishful thinking, Mitchell, I hardly think SGO is gonna let you open up wormholes so you can get shipments of your Momma’s home cooking sent through.”

“Sheppard, if we find two ZPMs, they’ll let me open the wormhole to send porn through, they’ll be so pleased.”

John had to admit, Cam had a point.

A tearful Wendy walked them to the Kiowa, hugging them both repeatedly. “You take care of each other now,” She pointed at John and told him, “And you, bring my boy home to me, no matter what, you hear? You promise?”

“Yes, ma’am… Momma. I promise.” How had this woman become Momma to him in just two days?

She hugged him again and kissed his cheek before releasing him to let him climb up into the cockpit. As the engine warmed up and rotors began to slowly spin, he couldn’t hear what she said to her son, but he saw Cam glance his way a few times and nod. John could read lips well enough to recognize “Yes, Momma” as Cam said it, repeatedly. Cameron wrapped his mother in a bear hug and kissed her forehead as he set her down again and reluctantly got into the chopper. Both mother and son waved to each other until they were up and out of sight.

They flew in silence for a while before John’s curiosity got the better of him and he had to ask, “What was she telling you? You were ‘yes, Momma-ing’ a mile a minute.”

“To write once a week, eat my fruits and veggies, not take stupid chances, and say my prayers. She told me to make sure you ate, that you’re too skinny, and that you slept, because you have bags under your eyes. And she warned me not to knock you up out there in Pegasus where she couldn’t be there to take care of you.”

“Well. Ok then,” John blushed furiously and kept his sights on the horizon, glad his sunglasses were mirrored to hide his eyes.

After a few minutes of embarrassed silence, Cameron said, “I wouldn’t, you know. I wouldn’t do that to you. I know you never want to go through that, and I swear I will never do that to you, John.”

Touched by both Mitchell’s insight into the crux of John’s problem with being _keri_ , and his consideration for John’s feelings, and not sure how to respond to the declaration his _panor_ had just made, John didn’t reply. It was certainly within his rights for Cam to breed with his _keri_ , it was, after all the whole point of the bonding. That he would deny himself that right was unusual.

John cleared his throat as he banked the Kiowa towards the west and Colorado Springs. “And if you wanted a child at some point?”

“Ex-vitro, Jildare growth chamber.”

John let out a low whistle. “That’s a bit expensive.” He only knew three people that had ever been able to afford the procedure.

“I have a fund set aside. I’m not the only one that will be banking the hazard pay from the Atlantis Expedition for some Jildare tech.”

“You mean Evan. I’m not telling you anything not in Parrish’s records here. David can’t carry; he was in a car wreck about ten years ago, lost a kidney, a chunk of his spleen and part of his liver. It could be fatal for him to attempt gestation; his body couldn’t handle the strain.”

Cam let out a whistle this time. “Damn. That has to be hard on them.”

“CB keeps them dosed with inhibitors for the time being. After they’ve done their procedure with the Jildare tech and have their child, David can legally have the egg sac removed and the eggs cryo-frozen, since an accidental pregnancy would be a direct danger to his health.” It was the only legal reason a _keri_ could undergo such a procedure. No human doctor was qualified to perform the operation; it had to be done under Jirante supervision.

“How long can they stay on inhibitors? This deployment is three years, they’ve been together for four already. Seven years, is that doing them physical harm?” Cam wondered aloud.

“CB says this is it, three years then no more. David would be fine, but the inhibitors will start to wreak havoc on Evan’s endocrine system after too much longer. He already has sleep problems and is at a risk for diabetes because of the drugs. The inhibitors weren’t meant for long term use, if they didn’t want a child of their own so much, CB would have nixed this already.”

He hadn’t heard John speak so much at one time since meeting him. This was something he obviously felt strongly about, this was important to John. Mitchell fell silent, thinking over what he knew about all of this. He needed to talk to Evan, find out what else he could expect from being on the inhibitors long term. If things worked out between John and him, it might be three years before he was off them too. It would be good to be prepared with some foreknowledge of what to expect.

The ride back to Cheyenne Mountain was a bit more serious and definitely quieter than the ride out to Kansas had been. When the silence grew too long and started to feel uncomfortable, John recounted his phone conversation with Dave to Cam, glossing over the more disturbing parts about David’s temper tantrums, it was probably best that Cam not know too much about that particular family trait until it was absolutely necessary.

“John?”

“Yeah?” John was startled by the voice in his headset; he’d been lost in thought as he gazed out at the horizon.

“Do you want to have children?”

Damn. They were going to have that talk after all. John thought Cam had dropped it when he hadn’t spoken about it for the last two hours. “I don’t know. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t absolutely terrified and repulsed by the idea of carrying. I don’t want that, I never wanted that. But I don’t think I’d mind being a parent, having a kid or two. If I had a safe home for them, a partner to raise them with. So I guess I can’t say no or never.”

“I promised my mother that we wouldn’t make her a grandmother again before we came home. I don’t make a habit of breaking promises, John.”

John nodded; they had something else in common now.


	8. And Many Happy Returns

“Incoming wormhole!” Farasan’s excited voice echoed through the empty halls and chambers of Atlantis.

Startled by the unexpected announcement, Peter bolted out of his chair and ran from the Commandant’s office across the bridge to the Control Room, where Farasan was bouncing in her chair. He rested his hands on her shoulders as they watched the blue lights swirl around the ring for the first time in the four months since the Expedition had been recalled to Earth.

“Look, Peter, eight chevrons!” The Athosian woman pointed between the computer monitor before her and the Gate in the distance. He wrapped his arms around his wife, his reason for volunteering to remain behind to guard Atlantis, and gave her a tight hug. Down below, Sergeant Pulaski, Sergeant Holmes and the last of their skeleton crew, young Jinto of the Athosians raised their automatic rifles at the Gate.

“It might be only a data transmission, my little love.” Peter’s eyes flashed to the computer screen and he smiled as he saw the Star Gate Operations identification code blinking there. “Prepare to disengage the shield on my word, Fara.”

Peter had slid his radio over one ear and now spoke into it, “SGO, this is Atlantis.”

“Grodin! Have you been taking good care of my city?”

He smiled; relieved to hear that distinctive voice. “It has been more difficult than we originally thought with only the five of us, but Atlantis still stands, Doctor McKay.” Peter waited to hear the prearranged codes before he allowed Fara to open the shield. Many things could have happened since the Expedition returned to Earth, and before he left the city in Peter’s hands, Sub Commander Sheppard had ordered Grodin not to lower the shield unless he heard the code words and got the proper byplay from Earth. If McKay was not under duress, he would come back with a question.

Which he did. “Five? What happened? We left six of you there.”

“Bashi went back to the Athosians,” It was Peter’s turn to talk in code, Bashi was the name he was to use if all was well in the city and it was safe for the Expedition to return.

“Well, open the iris, Grodin, we’re sending some stuff through,” McKay sounded cheerful; perhaps they were being allowed to return to Atlantis against all odds.

“The iris has been disengaged. Should we be expecting some company, Doctor?”

McKay’s answer was definitely cheerful. “Oh, a bit. Clear the deck, heavy stuff coming through.” Grodin moved to the rail and waved to the three standing guard to step away from the Gate.

Several transport trolleys rattled noisly as they came through the wormhole, being pushed by SGO uniformed crew. Grodin let out the breath he had been holding when he recognized Atlantis’s former SOO jogging through behind the stream of heavy carts, shouting instructions.

“Move those down the corridor to the big room we used for a staging area, we need to keep the walkways clear! Thirty seven minutes, people, keep it moving, keep it moving!” After directing traffic for a few minutes before turning the duty over to Paul Davis, Lorne grinned up at Grodin and waved in greeting and he ran up the stairs to join him at the rail. “Hiya, Pete, didja miss us?

Peter slapped Evan’s shoulder, “Unaccountably. It is very good to see you, Evan. I didn’t think you were coming back.”

“You won’t believe why they finally allowed it. Hey! Push that all the way through; don’t leave anything in the Gate Room!” Lorne leaned over the rail and gestured wildly.

“Why?”

“Him.” Lorne pointed as another very distinctive voice cried out in dismay, “You right bloody idiots! That’s fragile and irreplaceable! Be careful with these medical supplies!”

“Beckett?”

“A new mission mandate, Beckett is to study the feasibility of repopulating the Milky Way with transplants from Pegasus, and figure out a way to do it. Oh, and we have to kill all of the Wraith. And find a ZPM or a way to recharge the ones we have.”

Grodin smirked and crooked an eyebrow, “Oh, is that all?”

“Aside from the usual, find Ancient tech and don’t get killed? Nah, that’s it, and they gave us three whole years to do it in!”

They stood at the rail, watching the progress of the Atlantis Expedition’s military and science teams through the wormhole. Occasionally, Peter would wave cheerily as someone he knew came through and smiled up at him.

Farasan let out an exclamation of joy and darted past them to run down the stairs when Teyla and Ronon passed through the puddle of blue with Rodney McKay on their heels. Three quarters of AG-1 was back where they belonged at long last. Fara ran up to Teyla and touched their foreheads together before running her hands over Teyla’s huge distended belly. “The child has not come!”

“The child is stubborn, like her father,” Teyla said, casting a mildly dirty look Ronon’s way. “It is good to see you, Fara, will you walk with me and tell me how things have been with our people?”

“I was to be watching the controls.”

“Go, Fara, there are plenty of eyes to see to things here. Fill Teyla in on what she’s missed, and hear of her adventure on Earth,” Grodin said to his wife.

“I’ll take your place up in the Control Room,” Ronon offered, his wife had missed her friend and needed some Athosian company more than his at the moment. She had spent more than enough time with him over the past few days. Ronon jogged up the stairs and pounded Grodin’s back in greeting before going to man the consoles in the Control Room, a job everyone on the Expedition was cross-trained to do.

The Gate Room was a flurry of organized chaos as gear was moved as quickly as possible from Cheyenne Mountain through the wormhole to Atlantis. They only had thirty eight minutes in total to make the move before the wormhole closed and they were once again cut off from Earth for three years, or until a fully charged ZPM could be located, whichever came first. They carried with them the half depleted ZPM that had been found in the Milky Way and allotted to the mission so that they might return home in three years. It was to be stored away for that express purpose. Everyone coming through was weighed down with backpacks, duffel bags, rolling carts and equipment cases, hauling everything they possibly could with them, since there would be no resupply runs from Earth.

“What’s that?” Grodin asked as the first of the sleds carrying stacks of identical boxes passed into the Gate Room.

“Personal allotments. They let us have three boxes each. I went through your mission requisition history and made some educated guesses as to what you might need and what your personal preferences on sundry items might be. I took the liberty of making purchases on your behalf. Teyla picked some stuff out for Farasan, she got addicted to Mallomars and insisted on bringing some back to share with your wife.”

Peter smiled at the unexpected boon. “Thank you, Evan. That was quite thoughtful of you.”

“It was Sheppard’s idea, actually, when we were out shopping at the Super W Mart.”

“You and Sheppard went grocery shopping together?”

Lorne nodded and then grinned toothily. “Sheppard bought a bunny.”

“I don’t want to know.”

Evan checked his watch. “T minus nine minutes people. C’mon, Pete, the new Overseer is due to come through at the thirty minute mark.”

“We have a new Overseer?” Peter was curious as he followed Lorne down the stairs to stand near the Gate, but out of the flow of traffic. He smiled and nodded to people he knew, everyone’s hands were full, so handshakes and hugs would have to wait until later. He was surprised to see so many familiar faces of people from the first Expedition returning. He hadn’t asked about the Sub Commander, he knew the odds of Sheppard returning were very slight and didn’t want to mention it to Lorne and make his friend sad.

“Commodore on deck!” Lorne belted out, and the military people in the room all snapped to attention as an Air Services officer stepped through the event horizon and smiled at his first sight of Atlantis. A yeoman ran forward to take the bags and cases the Commodore had been lugging, which he handed over with a gracious thank you before turning to cross the floor to Lorne. Like everyone else, the Commodore had a fully stuffed backpack strapped to his back, and an assortment of gear strapped loosely to the sides jangled and swayed as he walked.

“Doctor Grodin, I presume?” The Commodore held out a hand, which Grodin shook as he returned the warm smile. He liked the man immediately; he seemed open and sincere and pleasant. “Cameron Mitchell. SGO extends gratitude for your unselfish service in remaining behind to maintain the Atlantis systems.”

“It is an honor and a pleasure to turn her over to you, Overseer.”

Mitchell inclined his head as he withdrew his hand and then looked around with wide eyes at the dimly lit Gate Room. “A little darker than I was led to believe. The photos seemed lighter.”

“It’s the middle of the night, sir. No sunlight coming through the stained glass yet.” Evan checked his watch and pointed towards the Gate. “But you might find this interesting to watch.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Evan rubbed his chin with one hand as he waited for the inevitable to happen. He’d been looking forward with anticipation to this part of the crossing.

Right on cue, Sheppard stepped through the wormhole, an overstuffed pack on his back, guitar case in one hand, pulling the handle of a large rolling bag with the other. As his foot hit the Gate Room floor, every wall, overhead panel and stair tread in the room brightened considerably, bathing the room in a warm orange glow.

“What just happened?” Mitchell asked Lorne as he watched his _keri_ jump out of the path of another large rolling cart and stand to the side, his eyes closed as he seemed to be listening to something.

“The favored son has returned,” Lorne remarked wryly, waving a hand in Sheppard’s direction.

“The city did that for John?”

“The city does a lot of things for John, and only for John. This is just one of her tricks; she’ll roll over and beg to get her belly rubbed if he sits in the control chair. Me, she barely acknowledges as an authorized user, but Sheppard? She treats Sheppard like he’s the second coming of the Ancients.”

This had not been in the mission reports Mitchell had read. Sheppard’s ATA gene strength had of course been noted and remarked upon, as were several incidents where he had to utilize Ancient tech in the course of his duties, but no one had mentioned that the level of interaction was that much more profound for his _keri_. Mitchell suspected it had been a somewhat organized failure in reporting on the part of the Expedition members.

The lights suddenly dimmed to their former levels. Grodin shrugged as they looked at him for explanation and said, “Intermittent power failures, we’ve had Gate Operations on a backup naquadia generator.”

Cam followed Evan up into the Control Room, where he got a quick five minute run down of what the different consoles were and what they did. Ronon grinned at him from where he slouched behind a work station and waved as he left to stand back by the railing.

Captain Laura Cadman ran towards them and skidded to a halt in front of Mitchell and saluted sharply. “All personnel present and accounted for, sir, I’m the last one through. SGO recommends clearing the deck, as they’re going to start heaving the rest of the secondary and tertiary supplies through until the Gate shuts down. They’ll toss for thirty seconds then hold for twenty to give us time to pick up and make some room in between.”

“Clear the floor, incoming projectiles!” Lorne shouted, just as stuff began to hurtle through the event horizon at a very fast pace. Wheeled carts careened through, shoved from the other side. Durable boxes flew across the Gate Room, bouncing all over the place as they landed. The marines on the other side hurling the gear must be having a bit of fun, not having to worry about where they threw the stuff. Much aggression was being spent on the supplying of Atlantis today.

Jolted out of the trance he had been in while he communed with his city; John had shucked his backpack and flattened himself against the wall with the other people still in range of the Gate when Lorne had called for everyone to move. He waved up at Cam, now standing at the top of the stairs with Evan and Peter. When the anticipated pause in the delivery came, Cam pointed one finger at John and crooked it, he wanted his _keri_ out of the danger area. Leaving his backpack and rolling suitcase behind near the wall, John lifted his guitar and skirted the debris field to join the others on the stairway. Atlantis welcomed him by changing the colors of the tread lights as he hit each one. “Cut that out!” he whispered, but the city ignored him and continued to cheerfully light his way.

“Sub Commander, it is very good to see you again,” Grodin said, reaching out to take John’s hand and shake it heartily. “I feared you weren’t coming back.”

“You weren’t the only one, it was touch and go for a while there. How are you, Peter? How is Falasan?”

“We are both well, thank you. It was a bit quieter and lonelier than we had anticipated; it will be so good to have crowded hallways once more.”

Jinto had come over to join them on the stairs when he had seen John making his way there. His eyes were pleading as he looked up at John. “And warm showers, please, John Sheppard, ask Doctor Rodney or Doctor Radek to make the city give us warm showers again.”

John ruffled the young Athosian man’s hair affectionately and gave him a one armed hug. “I’ll do that. Jinto, this is Commodore Mitchell, he is the Overseer now, which means he’s in charge of the mission. Cameron, this is our good friend, Jinto of the Athosians. His father is Halling, and he came over here to learn how to be an Air Services officer, he wants to fly someday.”

When John tilted his forehead slightly as a cue, Cam lowered his forehead to touch it lightly to the teenaged boy’s in the typical Athosian greeting. He felt a little silly doing it, but customs were customs. When he straightened up again he shook the young man’s outstretched hand, apparently, he had been taught to respect customs as well. “I’m pleased to meet you, Jinto. I understand you helped out minding the city for us while the Expedition was back on Earth?”

“Yes, Commodore. I am glad the marines and the seals have returned for I have much to learn, according to Sergeant Pulaski and Sergeant Holmes, if I am to be a good SGO officer some day.” Jinto gave them a grin and then pointed in the direction of the mess on the Gate Room floor as he bounded away. “I shall help move boxes.”

“He’s a good kid,” Lorne remarked. John and Peter nodded in agreement.

Their radios crackled and Commodore Kawalsky drawled in their ears, “Time’s up, boys and girls, I think you’ve got all you’re going to get. Take care of yourselves and I hope to hear from you soon. You might want to stand back; I’m sending through a little surprise that we didn’t know what to do with. Consider it a going away present, Cam.”

“Thanks, Charles. We’ll be seeing you.” Mitchell replied, watching the stream of boxes flying through the gate trickle down and away to nothing. Then there was a whine of a remote controlled engine and the wheels and steel nose of a vehicle broke through the blue puddle.

“What the hell?” Lorne exclaimed, as this had not been on any of his carefully planned charts, graphs or diagrams. He screamed out the order to “Clear the floor for that!” People scrambled to move everything out of the path of the slowly ambling vehicle as it rolled through the wormhole and rematerialized in Atlantis. Dragging along behind it were three small trailers. The gate flickered and closed just as the last trailer cleared the event horizon.

Mitchell jogged down the stairs and stood staring up at the biggest piece of equipment he had ever seen moved through the Star Gate. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Grodin, what the hell is going on with the power levels? Oh my God!” Rodney McKay exclaimed as he charged into the Gate Room. “The Eye of Anubis prototype!”

Moving around the others gawking up at the machinery, John reached up and tugged down the manila envelope taped to the front of it. It was labeled, “Sub Commander John Sheppard.” He flipped the envelope to show the label to Cam and then tore it open. He read the note attached to the folder within and started to chuckle. He handed Rodney the folder and then read the note aloud as the scientist flipped through the paperwork and began making happy noises at his side.

“Dear Sub Commander Sheppard, consider this my apology for the incident with the brig. I figured if anyone can get this pile of junk to do what it was designed to do, it would be McKay and Zelenka, and since they’re on your side of the wormhole, I’m shipping it to them to make it work. Consider this an amendment to your Mission Directive. Have fun, and don’t blow up the city. And if anyone asks, you have no idea how the EoAP got to Pegasus, right? Sincerely, Charles Kawalsky.”

“What is it?” Laura Cadman ran her hand up and down the side of the machine, tongue darting out between her lips as she sensed the power under her fingertips. Their demolitions expert was visibly entranced.

“If it works? This baby is a weapon powerful enough to destroy Wraith hive ships, from a land base. It’s a Goa’uld bastardization of Ancient technology; it uses power drawn through the six eyes to make a beam capable of cutting a small moon in half.” Rodney was following Cadman along the side of the machine, stroking it in almost as loving a manner as she now was.

Mitchell pointed behind the EoAP and asked, “What’s in the little trailers?”

“I suspect they would contain the eyes of Osiris, Seth, Tiamet, Apophis, Hathor and Ra, since the EoAP would be useless without them,” Rodney said from the other side of the machine.

“Hey, McKay, does this puppy come apart? I don’t see any way of getting it out of here otherwise,” Cameron called, looking around the machine to locate McKay.

Popping his head out from where he was stretched out beside Cadman under the EoAP, Rodney replied, “Yeah, it breaks apart into sections. We should probably move it down to one of the empty warehouse rooms on the East Pier, lots of empty space over there.”

“Would you supervise that, Rodney? I think Lorne has enough on his plate for now.” The addition of the EoAP to the Gate Room chaos had been an upset to Lorne’s careful schedule. Cam had noticed what might be the start or perhaps the resumption of a nervous tick in Evan’s left eye.

“Sure, sure. Radek’s opening the labs, dealing with the power drain, seeing to the monkeys, and working on the hot water issue so we can all have decent showers. I can handle this. Don’t touch that, Little Miss Boom-boom!” They heard the sound of slapping and soon Cadman and McKay were arguing in a rush of hisses and whispers under the EoAP.

Mitchell looked from the legs sticking out from under the EoAP, where there now appeared to be a physical tussle going on and then over at John, watching him intently, with a smirk on his handsome face as he said cheerily, “It could be worse.”

“Don’t say that, you dumbass. Are you trying to jinx us?” Cam exclaimed. Then curiosity got the better of him and he asked, “How could it be worse?”

“We could be sinking. The first time we came, the city was sinking until Rodney figured out how to make her rise. We could also have come through and found her under Wraith bombardment.” John’s posture was different; Cam noticed suddenly, the ever present slouch and the slump to his _keri's_ shoulders was gone. Though he still had shadows under his eyes, he looked better than he had in weeks, happier. “You ready for the nickel tour?”

“Yeah. Lead on. I particularly want to see where the ZPM housing is, and the chair room, and the puddlejumpers.”

John smiled broadly and pointed a finger then looked up over the Gate. “Puddlejumpers are straight up. The starburst iris there opens and the jumpers can come down to use the Gate, or they can go through the skylight in the jumper bay.”

“Someone will see to your gear, sirs, if you want to leave your packs.” Chuck appeared out of nowhere and gestured towards John’s guitar case. When John looked reluctant to hand it over, Chuck assured him, “I’ll personally take your belongings to your quarters, Sub Commander.”

“Am I in the same place?”

“No, sir. Major Lorne shifted you over to one of the suites; you’ll be sharing a common sitting area, galley and bathroom with the Commodore.”

John should have expected that. He nodded and handed Chuck his guitar. “What level?”

“Building Eight, level thirty five, back quarter,” Chuck rattled off the address and then turned away to go and gather the rest of Sheppard’s gear. An ensign came over and held his hands out to take Cam’s backpack, which he handed over much more easily than John had relinquished his hold on the guitar.

Leaving the noise of the Gate Room behind, Sheppard led the way to a stairway and down a few flights. Mitchell followed, trying to memorize landmarks, but all the hallways looked the same to him at the moment. After a while, he gave up in frustration and asked, “How do you tell the difference between the corridors?”

John stopped and turned a small circle, looking up until he found something he wanted and pointed. “Up there.”

Squinting up, Cam couldn’t see what it was he was supposed to be looking at. “What?”

His _keri_ grasped his chin firmly and tilted the angle of his head and drew his view to the left slightly. Cam shuddered at the touch of John’s fingers on his skin, and pushed the swell of desire away, they had work to do. “There, up by the ceiling there’s a marking in Ancient, those are numbers, all the hallways are numbered. You can tell when you’re in the lowest levels by the water lines on the walls from when the city was flooded. I never asked; do you have the ATA gene?”

“Yeah, not enough to do more than initiate some toys, though.”

Sheppard reached down to take Mitchell’s hand and tugged him over to the wall. “Press your hand to the wall, close your eyes and think ‘chair room’ a few times.”

Doing as instructed, he opened his eyes when John quietly said, “Thatta boy.”

John pointed at the floor and Cam saw that there was now a small trail of flashing orange dots near the edge of the wall. “She’s telling you the way.”

“I did that?”

“Yup. She understands some basic commands that Lorne and I have taught her to respond to, she’ll give directions to gene holders and she’ll open most doors for them. She’ll do it for you, as well, unless the door has been specifically locked by another ATA positive. The jumpers will probably respond to you too, I would think.”

Cameron smiled at that, he had hoped to be able to fly one of the little ships. He followed the trail of lights with John at his side until the reached a door. John swept his hand over a crystal array beside the door and it opened to reveal a dark room. His personal city guide/ATA gene instructor told him, “Think lights on, low. Always make sure you say low or you’ll be blinking away spots for hours. She gets a little overeager to comply with simple requests.”

He did as instructed and the lights came on to reveal a chair room much like the one in Antarctica had been, albeit with more decoration. He entered and circled the chair, reaching a hand out to touch the smooth metal.

“Permission to do a check of the city systems, Commodore?” John was eying the chair with a look of open hunger; he really wanted to sit down.

Cameron weighed the look John was giving the control chair with what he knew about the city operations and came up with an inconclusive answer. He reached his hand up and tapped his radio. “Doctor Beckett, may I ask you a question?”

“Aye, Commodore?”

“Is there any immediate danger to Sheppard if he initializes the command chair?”

“Oh, he led you straight there, did he? Nah, there’s no danger. She’s perfectly safe for him. Just don’t let him stay under too long today; as it’s a drain on his energy working within the interface, no more than an hour. He needs to work up to longer stretches again.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Cam clicked off the radio and gestured to the chair. “Go ahead, the Doc say’s you’re good to go.”

John bounced on his feet and then dropped into the chair, giving Cam a big smile. The chair rocked back, leaving John at an incline. Remembering that Cam didn’t know what was going on, he sat up again, looked over at Mitchell and said, “I’m going to see if I can track the power fluctuations, to give Radek a hand. I’m also going to do a security sweep around the perimeter and check the water filtration.”

“I’m going to assume you know the priorities and I defer to you, John. Can you put it on overhead so I can follow along?”

“Sure. Will do.”

“Can you hear me while you’re doing this?”

“If I make a conscious effort to do so, which I will now since you’re here. If I was trying to do major systems overhaul or if this was a battle, I probably wouldn’t, it gets little deep, I sorta lose track of the outside.”

“I’m not sure I like the idea of that.” Cam tilted his head and looked at his _keri_ with concern.

John shrugged elegantly. “I’ll pay attention and try not to drift off. Whack my foot if you want my attention.”

“I’ll whack more than your foot if I’m giving you orders and you’re ignoring me, Sub Commander.” Cam leveled a serious look at him.

“Right. Yes, sir.” John tossed off a sloppy salute and sat back. The chair glowed, casting a blue light around the room. Displays flashed on around the room, overhead and in front of Cam’s face. He understood some of it, but much was in Ancient and moved too quickly for him to translate. Learning more Ancient moved a bit higher up on his list of things to do in Atlantis.

“There’s the problem. There’s an active console in a lab that was never shut down when we left. The power is going to a hookup there, someone must have unplugged something and left the coupling live. I’m turning it off and shutting down that entire relay, there’s some burned out circuits on it that are causing the failures,” as John spoke, a grid lit yellow and flashed, and Cam was able to trace the line along with John as he mentally gave Atlantis the orders to correct the issue.

John talked his way through several more steps, but eventually, his narration trailed off to silence as he worked faster and with more complex systems, judging by the flashing of the diagrams and screens overhead.

It was both breathtaking and frightening to watch. He had not imagined this when he had read in numerous reports that ‘John Sheppard is capable of utilizing Ancient technology.’ Watching John manipulate multiple command screens, making changes as fast as the screens opened and moving on was like watching an orchestra conductor at work with a symphony. His _keri_ had the power of Atlantis at his fingertips and was wielding it like a sword master swung his steel. Mitchell stepped back and watched as more screens opened. He saw visuals, obviously taken from security cameras; views of the city from outside and then from inside flashed in rapid sequence across the walls and ceiling.

“Sheppard’s in the chair, isn’t he?” Lorne asked in Mitchell’s ear. Enthralled by the sight of his _keri_ at work, he’d missed the opening click of the radio comm line. He glanced at the control on his shoulder and saw the light that indicated he was on a private line with Evan.

Mitchell’s voice was husky as he answered, “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“The lights are back to full power, all the security systems came online, the deep space sensors started a full sweep, all the cargo storage rooms doors are now standing open, and Zelenka is overjoyed to report that we have hot running water on all residential levels.”

“I think some people left a few things out of their mission reports about ATA user interfaces in Atlantis, Lorne.”

Lorne chuckled, “Not if you knew how to read between the lines. Is it a little hot down there, Commodore?”

“You have no idea,” Cam admitted, running a finger along the inside of his collar and gulping.

Again, Lorne chuckled. “I have a very, very good idea, actually. But I’m bonded and monogamous and could never act on it. Don’t let him stay in the chair much longer, or you’ll be carrying him home to bed. He has a bad habit of burning himself out playing with her.”

“Right. I think I’m gonna pull him out soon, since I have no idea how to get to quarters from here. Mitchell out.” Mitchell had noticed that his officers frequently referred to Atlantis as a she, giving her human qualities in the way they spoke about her. He’d dismissed it as an idiosyncrasy, like sailors and spacers with their ships, but there might be something more to it. Atlantis was not what Cam had expected.

Nor was the _keri_ stretched out in the chair in front of him. He checked his watch; it had been a little over thirty minutes. According to Lorne’s report, Sheppard had done quite a bit of work already, lightening the scientist’s load. “John,” Cam called, not expecting a response. He was surprised when Sheppard opened his eyes immediately and looked over at him.

“Hi.”

“I think you’ve done enough for now, leave something for Zelenka and the monkeys to play with.”

John chuckled and pushed the chair up, the view screens disappeared and the blue lights went out. “Ooooo, McKay is getting to you, he’s got you calling the lab geeks monkeys too.”

“Is that bad?” Cam held a hand out and hauled his _keri_ out of the chair. John wobbled a little unsteadily and put his hands out to catch Cam’s shoulders to catch his balance.

“Nah. They are monkeys. They have collectively almost blown up the city on sixteen different occasions, set off explosions twenty three times, broken numerous pieces of equipment, initialized seven lethal Ancient experiments, and almost killed me, twice. They are, indeed, monkeys.”

“I’m very far behind on my mission reports.”

John shook his head. “I left a lot of those incidents out of the mission reports. It would have reflected badly on the science division.”

Shaking his head at the illogic of that entire exchange, Cam suggested, “Let’s skip the ZPM portion of the tour. I feel the need to unpack and relax, how about you?”

“Yeah, okay. That took a bit more out of me than I thought it would, I guess it was good that you pulled me out.”

Cam slapped his shoulder and followed him out of the room. “That was half an hour, it’s a good thing I didn’t let you have the whole hour.”

The _keri_ paused in the doorway and looked back, his eyes troubled. “That was only a half hour?” At Cam’s answering nod, he muttered, “I guess I’m more worn out than I thought.”

As they trudged back along the way they had come, Mitchell asked, “How much sleep have you been getting a night?”

“Three, sometimes four hours, I’ve been busy, a lot on my mind.”

In a tone that clearly said he meant it as an order, Cam told John, “Make it seven, from here on out.”

John protested feebly, “I can’t sleep that long.”

“Uh huh,” Mitchell replied, having every intention of doing whatever was necessary to keep John in bed. His _keri's_ health was his responsibility, one he intended pay close attention to.

He followed John up to through residential area to the suite they were going to be sharing. There were two bedrooms of equal size to either side of an open seating area with a table, chairs and a sofa. A galley took up one wall and there were doors that led to a closet and the bathroom, which had one of the large, deep bathtubs and a shower stall.

The bedroom where Cam’s stuff was had a balcony off it, and he went straight through to stand out in the open night air, lifting his nose to the salty breeze and inhaling deeply. He liked this. He could get used to this.

“Cool,” John said, coming up behind him. “Nice view.”

“You have a balcony?”

“Nope, a wall. No matter, I’ll borrow yours when I need fresh air.”

“You’re welcome to it; you can have this room if you want, I don’t mind changing.”

“Nah. All good. I’m hitting the sack. Goodnight Cameron.”

“Goodnight, John. Let me know if you’re having trouble sleeping.” John turned away with a little smile that told Cam he would do no such thing.

Cam reached out and grabbed John’s arm. “I mean it. Consider it an order if you need to. If you are not asleep by…” He checked his watch and saw it read 8pm, Colorado time. “9, come wake me.”

“Wake you up to tell you I can’t sleep.”

“Yes.”

“You’re weird.”

“And you’re exhausted, and my _keri_. Go to bed, John.” He let his hand drop away and John walked off, shaking his head.

An hour later, Cam was dozing lightly, his hands clasped behind his neck when he heard a shuffling outside his door before it opened. John slipped inside and moved to stand at the foot of the bed, a dark silhouette against the open bedroom door.

“I’m still awake. I can’t get to sleep.”

Cameron patted the bed beside him and John climbed up and stretched out on his side, facing him. Cam told him, “Symptom of _keri_ First Stage, excessive restlessness, brought on by an over abundance of particular hormones.”

“You’ve been reading.”

“A lot. More than usual since being assigned this mission. Take off your shirt and roll on your belly.”

Too exhausted to fight, and secretly enjoying being fussed over, John complied, and dropped his shirt to the floor beside the bed. He crossed his arms and rested his cheek on his elbow, watching Cam.

Grabbing a bottle of lotion he had placed beside the bed in anticipation of John’s visit, Mitchell moved to straddle John’s slim hips and smeared his hands with the cool cream and began to rub it across John’s back. He kneaded the knots of muscle he found, and rubbed and massaged until John gave a low groan, from deep in his chest. “Hurt?”

“No. Please don’t stop. You obviously know what you’re doing.”

“I took a course in massage therapy while I was laid up recuperating after Antarctica, I had nothing better to do, and it helped some of my roommates feel better after their therapy sessions.”

“How long were you in the hospital?”

“Eight months, I had to relearn how to walk. I was a mess.”

John opened his eyes and sleepily looked back over his shoulder at Cam. “You still hurt?”

“Sometimes.”

With a frown, Sheppard nodded and dropped his head back down.

He continued to work the muscles along John’s sides and ribcage, memorizing his _keri_ by touch, noting where John was more sensitive, when he jumped, when he sighed in pleasure. He pulled John’s arms around and ran his hands up and down them as well, massaging the muscles that had to be sore from all the hauling and carrying they had done at SGO that morning. Eventually, he stopped the movements meant to hit the deepest tissues and concentrating on just relaxing John.

Within a few minutes, his _keri_ was snoring quietly, his face plastered to the mattress, his limbs loose and pliant in Cam’s grip. With a few final swipes across the massage warmed skin, Cam slid off the bed and retrieved a soft cotton blanket he had brought from home, one that still smelled like Momma’s laundry softener. He unfolded it and draped it over John and then climbed into bed beside him. Within minutes, he followed his _keri_ into sleep.


	9. Hurts of Many Colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Whump. Minor character death.

Bringing Atlantis back online required a great deal of work from every member of the Expedition. Each night John and Cam, like everyone else, were putting in very long days. Though a repeat of the massage therapy wasn’t necessary, they fell into a pattern after the first night; John would stubbornly start the night in his own bed and eventually, silently, migrate into Cam’s room. Exhausted from long days on duty, John immediately fell asleep as soon as he settled onto the mattress beside Cameron, and slept soundly through the night. Since it seemed to be what John needed in order to get a full night of rest, Cam didn’t begrudge him the space.

The inhibitors were working for Mitchell; he was able to stay in the bed with John and just sleep without being overcome by mating lust. In the morning, when Cam woke, John was always gone. Sensing that mention of the pattern would embarrass his _keri_ , and would likely lead to John staying away, Cam said nothing. He didn’t want to lose that; he was growing used to having company in the bed at night, and was finding John’s soft snores to be a comfort, rather than a distraction.

About a week after the Expedition’s return to Atlantis, Mitchell jolted awake when John rolled away from where he had been pressed against his back. The sudden draft left by John’s absence had woken him. It was the first time he was able to catch his _keri_ attempting to sneak out.

“Awfully early, isn’t it?” Cam grumbled, rubbing his eyes and rising up on one elbow to watch John cross the room on tiptoe. It was actually kind of cute, which Cam might admit if the disappearing act wasn’t a source of mild irritation.

Caught, John stilled and simply looked at Cam for a few moments before he said cautiously, “I have to meet Ronon.”

“Ronon?”

“We run,” John answered quickly, shifting from foot to foot.

Mitchell sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “How long a course?”

“5k, out to the North pier, up over one of the bridges, down to the sub basement in section eleven and then up to the training rooms to hit the showers.”

“I’m a little out of shape, but I used to run the course with the seals at my last deployment. Mind if I tag along?”

“Really? You want to come?” No one else on the base had ever volunteered to run with them at the crack of dawn. They had forced platoons of soldiers to do so as part of their PT, but no one had actually willingly gone along.

Cam crossed to the drawers set in the wall that held his clothing and fished out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. “Sure, I need the exercise.” He forced himself not to react when John’s eyes flickered up and over his body as he dressed quickly. He smirked when John gave a start, shook his head and dashed out of the bedroom. He dug out his running shoes and a pair of soft socks and went out to the common room, plopping down on the sofa to put on his footwear while John dressed.

The door chimed, and Cam went over and pressed his hand over the control to open it. Obviously startled to see Mitchell instead of Sheppard, Ronon blinked, took in Cam’s attire and then smiled in challenge. “You coming?”

“Yup.”

“We don’t go easy on newcomers.”

With a gracious smile, Cameron replied, “I don’t expect you to.”

“Keep up, or find your own way home, I’ll leave your ass.”

“Threatening my _panor'eten_ , Big Guy?” John laughed and punched Ronon’s arm as he squeezed past him and jogged out into the corridor.

By the time they reached the showers, Cameron was certain of two things: he was severely out of shape, and Ronon had run faster and extended the course far past 5k just to test him. He stumbled into the showers, ignoring the Sateden’s knowing smirk and Sheppard’s sympathetic look in attempt to maintain some of his dignity.

The showers were one thing the Ancients had designed properly, almost decadently. Setting the water jets to a punishing level of pulsation, Cam stood beneath the streams and whimpered as the hot water pounded into his abused muscles.

~*~

“John, can I talk to you?” Rodney tapped on the doorframe of John’s office and looked in, his whole demeanor screaming “problem” at his friend. Rodney did not knock quietly and slink through doors; not unless he was upset.

Pointing to the chair across from his desk, John sat back and crossed his arms, “Of course. What’s up, Rodney?”

“Could you do the door thing?” Rodney waggled his fingers limply over his shoulder at the open doorway. Mentally instructing Atlantis to shut the door, John also had the windows darken for privacy. John’s office was near Cameron’s, a short way from the Gate Control Room, and all the walls facing the Gate Room were glass. It was a bit like working in a fish bowl at times.

“C’mon, what’s wrong, buddy?”

“Katie is miserable, I think she hates me.”

Like many other people, John had been surprised when Katie McKay had joined them on the expedition, she had made it quite clear during the first deployment that she disliked the city, and that she wanted to go to her parent’s home in Texas rather than return to Atlantis with her _panor'eten_. Tapping the pencil he held in his hand on the edge of the desk, John asked, in a careful voice, “Rodney, did you force her to come back?”

“What? No! No, of course not! I’d never force her to do anything. Her father tried to talk me out of coming back, he doesn’t understand what it is we’re doing out here, why this is important. He thinks I should go work at a lab in Texas somewhere. She made the decision herself. I’m relieved; actually, I would have missed her if she had stayed behind.”

“But she’s miserable.”

“Yeah. I don’t know what to do. She doesn’t want to spend time with Teyla and the Athosians, I thought she might like that, but they make her nervous. She doesn’t like Radek or Miko for some reason, so she avoids my lab. She still works part time in the greenhouse with Parrish, but I don’t think that is enough. I don’t know what to do.” It was not often Rodney admitted he didn’t know something, his ego was legendary at SGO and his knowledge base was extensive. But Rodney didn’t do well with people; people were his weakness.

Though he had absolutely no idea what he could possibly do to help, John volunteered anyway. “Want me to talk to her?”

Hopeful eyes looked up at him. “Would you?”

“Sure.”

Slumping in relief, Rodney shifted in the chair and awkwardly asked, “So, uh, how are things with you and…”

This was Rodney being supportive. Hiding his smirk behind his hand, John supplied, “Cameron.”

“Yes, right, Cameron. He treating you well?”

He was about to nod yes, but then couldn’t resist teasing his friend, “He’s only hit me twice, and he lets me sleep on the bed now. The handcuffs are annoying, but I’m getting used to them.”

“What?!? I’m going to kill Lorne, what in the hell was he thinking getting you into this crap?” Rodney caught John’s amused eyes, realized he was being pranked, and pointed a finger at him, “You bastard.”

John chuckled now. “It’s all good, Rodney. We don’t exactly spend a lot of time together, there’s too much going on. We catch a meal now and then in the mess, and he’s been running with Ronon and me for a couple of weeks now, but otherwise, it’s all work.”

“Are you sleeping with him?”

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat as Rodney stared with open curiosity, John grudgingly admitted, “Yeah. But just sleeping, it keeps the nightmares away.”

Having experienced John’s nightmares firsthand while sharing quarters on away missions, Rodney understood why that was important enough for his friend to have mentioned. Anything that kept the recurring dreams that plagued Sheppard from disturbing his sleep must be a blessing. “Is that enough for you?”

“For now. Slow is good. I’m trying to get used to the inhibitors. Beckett says it will take some time to adjust to a normal level of attraction, instead of the crazy need to rip off each other’s clothes.”

Wanting to change the subject and get away from the discussion of his sex life, John patted a folder on his desk, “I’ve got a mission for us. Doctor Corrigan found a lead in the Ancient database on a planet where there might be a ZPM, there’s mention of an auxiliary base on a planet called Belsorma. We’re slated for 8am tomorrow.”

“Your _panor'eten_ is letting you go?”

“It isn’t a question of letting me or not letting me. This is my job, Rodney, he knew that when he took me on. I’m the team leader of AG-1.”

Knowing John well enough to know when he was skirting the issue, Rodney said, “I’ll rephrase the question. Does Overseer Mitchell know that you’re on the off-world mission schedule for tomorrow?”

“Davis will give him the brief and tomorrow’s schedule at some point today.”

“Davis? The ghost? You’re relying on Lorne’s little invisible henchman to inform your _panor’eten_ about your first off world mission? You’re chickenshit.”

John didn’t get an opportunity to answer, as the emergency klaxons went off before Rodney finished insulting him. “Now what?” He darted out from behind the desk and charged to the door with Rodney on his heels as they clattered across the flybridge to the Control Room, reaching it at the same time as Mitchell, who was already in the process demanding a status report from Chuck.

“Long range sensors are picking up two hive ships, on an intercept course with Lantea.” The tech pointed to the overhead display, where the icons representing the Wraith ships flickered in red.

“How long?” Cam asked.

Grodin answered. “Two days, possibly three if they stop to cull along the way.”

Mitchell ran a hand over his face and looked at John with concern “How did they find us so quickly? We just got back. The city went four months without any recorded Wraith activity in the sector; I find it hard to believe two hive ships just happened across us accidentally.”

“We’ve been sending teams out to our trading partners, someone on one of the planets must have let on,” John theorized.

Lorne had come into the room and stood at the console beside Chuck, listening to the conversation and watching the sensor screen, his brow wrinkled with worry. “I’ll run back through everyone our people came in contact with on those trade missions, see if we can narrow down where the leak might be.”

“It was probably the damned Genii. They’ve got spies everywhere, and Cowen has made no secret of his intent to destroy Atlantis.” Frustrated, John ran a hand through his hair and glared down at the computer where Grodin was seated.

“Let me know if you find anything, Lorne.” Mitchell turned to Rodney, “What are our cloaking and shielding options?”

“With the charge we have in the ZPM now, if we cloak, we can stay hidden for a week, maybe a few days more, and then we’ll be a sitting duck once it is drained. If we uncloak and cut all secondary systems, we can probably last a month under heavy bombardment before the shields completely fail. Either of these plans will of course drain us dry and leave us unable to contact Earth again.”

“We need another ZPM.” John mumbled into the silence as everyone digested Rodney’s words. When the Commodore gave him a look, since finding a ZPM was one of their primary mission objectives, John said defensively, “We have a lead, Doctor Corrigan found a planet in the database, it was on the mission schedule for tomorrow. I’ll take my team out there and follow up on it; Corrigan can sub-in for Teyla.”

Mitchell started to shake his head. John raised his hand forestalling whatever he had been about to say. “We have a gate address and a map, more than we’ve ever had before; this is a solid lead, Commodore.”

“May I have a moment, Sheppard?” Taking John by the elbow, Cameron pulled him towards the wall, away from curious ears. “I’m not comfortable with you leading a Gate Team, _keri_ ,” he stressed the last to impress on John that this was personal, as if dragging him aside to whisper close to his ear wasn’t clue enough. “Especially with Wraith on the doorstep and a very real possibility that you might not be able to dial back in if we are under bombardment.”

“You’re telling me, no?”

“I didn’t say no. I just want you to know I’m uncomfortable with it.”

John nodded, acknowledging his _panor'eten's_ concern, and appreciating that Mitchell wasn’t immediately shooting him down on the basis of it. “We’re going to an Ancient facility, Cameron. That means an ATA positive needs to go, to activate the place. Yeah, you could send Lorne and AG-2, but right now, I think you need Lorne here more than you need me, he’s better at organizing the troops and keeping things running smoothly. If I can’t get back for some reason, he can operate the chair, she’ll work for him. You can hold Atlantis with or without me.”

“You’re taking an extra two teams, I want one at your back and one on the Gate. I want hourly check-ins. If you miss a check in, I’m yanking you all back here.”

“Okay. We’ll have to talk about this later, I think.”

“I didn’t think it would come up so quickly, and I didn’t realize I would have a problem with it. It isn’t a reflection on your abilities, Sheppard, I’m just…”

“Worried?”

“Crap. Yeah, worried. Go on, gear up, and then go find us a miracle.” Cam slapped his shoulder and watched him jog out of the Control Room after collecting Rodney. He hoped he wasn’t going to regret this.

~*~

“Corrigan, come on! We’re out of time!” John shouted impatiently as the building shook around him. The lights, dim to begin with, were flickering on and off, alternately casting his companions in darkness and lighting them in a strange amber glow.

“I think I found it!”

“Damn it, you’re as bad as McKay with his teeth sunk in a bone!” John ran into the room where Corrigan was crouched precariously on his heels over an opening in the floor, his arms hidden from view as he dug around within it. He skidded to a halt beside the anthropologist and peered down into the hole. He pulled a penlight from his tac vest and shined it past Corrigan’s arms.

The young scientist grunted, straining as he tried to pull up on whatever he had found. “It won’t budge.”

The overhead lights flickered and a layer of dust floated down as the ceiling shook again.

From the doorway, Ronon hollered, “Sheppard, the wall is going!”

In the light of the penlight, John saw the tell-tale orange glow and jagged, irregular crystals of a ZPM. “Here Doc, hold the light, let me try.” The ground shuddered again; the entire place was falling down around them as a series of small explosions sounded in the distance.

They switched places, and when John gripped the ZPM and turned it to the left, it came up into his hands. “Got it!” Strong arms wrapped around John’s waist and he was hauled up, spun around, and dropped back onto his feet halfway across the room, courtesy of Ronon. The ceiling caved in as they ran from the chamber, if Dex had not moved him, John would have been crushed under the collapsed ceiling.

Cradling the ZPM to his chest, John ran like a quarterback through the lines, zigzagging around debris as he followed Corrigan through the collapsing compound. Running for one’s life was a fundamental skill necessary for all Gate Team personnel, John was glad to see he had not gone rusty; he could still haul ass with the best of them. Rodney waited anxiously near the entry door of the complex, his hands buried in among the crystals of the control panel, holding the door open until the rest of the team had passed through.

When McKay paused, remaining behind a moment too long for his liking, Ronon reached back through the closing door and hauled Rodney through by the lapels of his jacket.

The entire underground complex was collapsing, a self-destruct having been activated when they entered a restricted area. The ground was collapsing inward, leaving wide stretches of their path back to the Gate impassable. Along with their four marine escorts, AG-1 ran as quickly as possible, picking their way, in some cases leaping across gaps or throwing each other across. It was one of the most harrowing runs to a Gate John could ever remember making. He was more than mildly put out that Ronon could fling him around as if he weighed no more than a child, and did so without John’s leave. They were going to have words when they got back to Atlantis about the propriety of manhandling your team leader.

“Dial, dial, dial!!!” Rodney was screaming into his radio to the relay team left behind at the Gate. “The whole damn place is going to blow any minute! Go through, don’t wait, just go!”

~*~

They almost made it to the Gate before the detonation. Corrigan, McKay and three of the marines that had been out in front ran through the event horizon to Atlantis. The concussive force of the explosion caught Ronon, John and Sergeant Sils and hurled them through the wormhole. They flew through the air and landed hard on the other side as Rodney shouted for Chuck or Grodin to turn on the shield. A panicked Mitchell screamed for a medical team as he ran down the stairs towards his _keri_ , lying crumpled facedown in a heap a few feet from Ronon and Sergeant Sills.

“John?” Cam skidded to his knees on the smooth floor, his hands going immediately to John’s throat to feel for a pulse. He very nearly sobbed in relief as he felt the flutter of John’s heartbeat beneath his fingers. His vision had gone blurry and his blood roared in his ears as soon as he had seen John come through the Gate so violently. And this was only the Initial Phase of bonding? He could barely breathe for the fear that was overwhelming him, his _keri_ was in trouble and Cam was losing control.

“Don’t move him, Cam. Don’t touch him. The doctor is on the way.” Evan’s hands fell on Cam’s shoulders, ready to pull him back if he didn’t do as Lorne suggested. A _keri's_ spilled blood was frequently the trigger, the root cause of a _panor’eten_ going berserker. There was a spreading pool of blood under John’s cheek where it rested on the floor. Rubbing Mitchell’s shoulder, Lorne crouched beside his friend and counseled in a calm voice, “Breathe, Cam. Breathe. Help is coming.”

He forced himself to still his hands, he wanted to gather John up and… do what? What could he possibly do? He clenched his teeth and bit down, trying to push aside the riot of emotions that threatened to steal away his control. He had a job to do, he was ranking officer of this base and he couldn’t fall apart here, he couldn’t go completely feral and mindless, no matter what his body was trying to do or how off the rail his emotions were.

Cam reached out and touched two shaking fingers to the back of John’s neck, needing contact, any contact with his _keri_ as he attempted to center himself.

“You’re doing fine, Cameron. Breathe slower, you’re starting to hyperventilate.” Evan soothed. He leaned over, trying to check John over without moving him and possibly causing more serious injuries. “It looks like John has a cut on his forehead; you know head wounds bleed stupidly. He’ll be fine, Cam. Beckett and his team are coming, I hear them now. Just stay calm. Pick a point and focus on it.”

Seizing onto Evan’s calm voice like a lifeline, Cam focused on his friend and started counting as he inhaled, he was going lightheaded. Lorne was right, he was hyperventilating. He felt a chill and began to shiver. John was lying so still, and there was so much blood.

~*~

Running through the doorway with his team in response to the urgent summons from Grodin, Carson called, “What’s happened?” Seeing Mitchell hunched over Sheppard, and then spotting the blood on the floor, he exclaimed, “Bullocks!” This was a worst case scenario unfolding. He waved a hand at the gawkers assembling on the stairs and at the rails overlooking the Gate Room and bellowed, “Clear this room, now!”

Beckett headed straight for John while Doctor Biro ran over to see to the unconscious Ronon. Sergeant Sils, the marine that had also been thrown through, was sitting up. He was shaky but not as badly injured as the pair that had been at the very back of the group, closest to the explosion.

“Let me in here, Commodore.” Beckett knew he had two patients to deal with now, an injured _keri_ always meant the potential for both members of the bonded pair going down, it was part and parcel of the _panor's_ nature. If not calmed down in time, a _panor'eten_ would work themselves into a frenzy trying to protect their _keri_ ; the overdose of adrenaline and hormones always led to a hard crash for the _panor_ afterwards.

He could see that Mitchell’s eyes were glazed and he was panting in short breaths as he stared intently at Sheppard, he was slipping, and quickly. As Carson had feared, the bond between the two men was already solidly forged; they had to be most of the way through the Initial Phase. This incident could easily override all the inhibitors and push Mitchell fully into Main Phase; he’d been nearly there weeks earlier when Carson had been testing them. “Cam, concentrate on breathing, lad. I’ll see to John. Sit back, now, you’re getting in my way.”

Beckett quickly checked John for injuries, feeling up and down his body for broken bones, and thankfully finding none, he called for a back board and braces to immobilize him so he could flip him over. He pulled out the sharp utility knife he wore on his belt, intending to cut the straps of the field pack John wore. At the flash of the four inch long blade, something snapped in Mitchell and he let out a feral growl, one hand whipping out and snagging Carson’s wrist in a tight, bone-crushing grip.

“Cameron Mitchell, let go of my hand or I will sedate you. Do you hear me? I will sedate you and you will not know what is happening to John.”

Lorne had his hands wrapped around Cam’s, trying to pry him off the doctor. “Cam, he needs to work, let him help John. Come on, you’re going feral on me, Mitchell. Don’t do this. John needs you to keep your head. Let go of the doctor, Cameron!” Evan was finally able to wrench Cam’s hand off Beckett’s.

“We need to cut the pack off, so I can roll him over, I need to see where the blood is coming from. I need to hurry, Cameron.”

Their words were registering on some level. “Cut the pack. Help John,” Mitchell murmured, and held his hand out for the knife.

“No, no, if it is all the same to you, I’ll be the one doing any cutting.” Carson gestured to his med team, indicating what he needed them to do while keeping his eyes on a _panor_ on the edge of a full-blown blood rage. He preferred to avoid sedating Mitchell; drugs would pollute his system even more, making for a longer recovery. Sedatives now would likely completely negate all the inhibitors currently keeping Mitchell from going into Main Phase. If he slipped over, there was no way they would be able to keep John from following soon after and their contract bonding would be a bonding in truth.

John let out a groan and began to stir, moving his legs and trying to push up with his hands. He slumped back down and let out a small, pained “Ah!” The sound of his _keri_ in distress sent Mitchell over the edge and he let out a bellow of animalistic rage, knocking Lorne aside with a forceful two-handed shove and bracing to leap at Carson, the perceived threat because he had his hands on John. Just as Cameron rocked forward on the balls of his feet, a whine filled the air; an energy bolt flew past Beckett’s ear and caught Cam in the dead center of his chest. The blast threw him backwards against Lorne and they both toppled to the floor.

Grateful for the intervention, for there had been murder and mayhem in Mitchell’s eyes, Carson looked up to see Rodney, his arm extended, Ronon’s blaster gripped tightly in his hand. “Beckett, see to John, your people should hurry and get Mitchell strapped down; I don’t know how long the stun setting will hold a berserk _panor_.” He lowered the gun and rambled on, “This is a mess. I thought this was a paper bonding, Carson. That is not in any way, shape or form a _panor_ in name only.” Rodney waved the gun to indicate Mitchell, now slumped unconscious across Lorne’s lap.

Jogging down the stairs, McKay looked around at the fallen forms of three of his friends and swore softly under his breath. Curling his lip, McKay pointed the blaster towards Evan and snarled, “You know, I really should shoot you. Mitchell and Sheppard would probably thank me for it.”

“Doc. Rodney,” Lorne said, holding his hands up in front of him as his nostrils flared. There was _keri_ blood in the air and every _panor_ in the room was being affected now, including Lorne. Beckett must have an iron backbone or balls of pure steel to be able to treat wounded _keri_ without going ballistic each and every time. “Calm down. It’ll be okay.”

While he worked on Sheppard, Carson kept one eye on McKay, who lowered the weapon and snapped with irritation, “Oh, stop it; I’m not in a rage. You’ve just really pissed everyone off; this is entirely your fault.” Shoving Ronon’s blaster into the waistband of his pants, Rodney moved over to where Beckett had tossed John’s backpack and opened the top, pulling out the ZPM. “We’ll need to test this, see if it has a charge.”

When Carson finally had John stabilized enough to roll him completely over, he was relieved to see the blood was from a nasty but non lethal gash along John’s cheek and forehead. The _keri_ seemed to be in much better shape than Carson had first thought when he had seen him. John was quasi conscious, groaning in pain and attempting to sit up, despite the back board and neck brace. “Stay down, John, before you do yourself a mischief.”

Waving at his four patients, Carson said, “Let’s move them along to the infirmary, now.”

~*~

Lorne, now senior officer and acting Commandant with both Mitchell and Sheppard down, waited in the corridor outside the infirmary for news, hoping that he was not going to have to figure out how to defend Atlantis on his own when the Wraith arrived in two days. With the ZPM in his hot little hands, McKay had charged off to the labs once he had been assured that his teammates had been stabilized.

“We almost didn’t get it,” Corrigan remarked as Lorne began to pace. “If Sheppard hadn’t reached in and grabbed it, the whole mission would have been for nothing.”

Evan nodded and continued his pacing. His comm clicked and McKay’s voice came over it. “I have good news and bad news, Major.”

“Give me the good first, I need it.”

“The ZPM has a charge.”

“And?”

“That’s about the extent of it. It isn’t much more than we already have in our ZPM. It will give us a few more days of protection, but that’s about it.”

“Damn. Thanks Doc. I guess you should figure out the best allocation for the power, so that when our Overseer wakes up he can make a decision.”

There was snort in his ear. “You do realize he’s going to be useless? You’ll get more out of Sheppard.”

Lorne suspected McKay was right, but he wasn’t going to admit it. “How go those shield modifications, any chance of those happening before the space vamps get here?”

“Zelenka is making progress. I can only work one miracle at a time, Lorne. Mitchell asked for more efficiency out of the cloak. McKay out.”

This whole situation had gotten completely and totally out of control. It looked like the temporary bonding was going to stick; Sheppard was going to be stuck with Mitchell as his _panor'eten_ permanently. Evan groaned and buried his head in his hands.

“Major Lorne, Sub Commander Sheppard is asking for you,” Nurse Sakura called quietly from the doorway. While Corrigan remained in the corridor, Lorne hurried to follow after her.

His heavy heart lightened a bit as he saw John sitting up in the bed, with only two bandages on his cheek and forehead. Lorne had been imagining casts and braces and traction and comas. Instead, he got band-aids and one of John’s self-depreciating smirks.

“I didn’t run fast enough,” Sheppard drawled, pointing to his forehead.

“Almost. If you had been any slower, you’d be dead. Corrigan said you’re the one who got the ZPM.”

“Is it any good?”

“McKay says on par with what we already have, so pretty drained. It will double our survival time.”

Sheppard nodded. “Worth the trip then.” He looked around to check who might be listening and crooked a finger to beckon Lorne over. When Lorne was close enough John asked in a hushed voice, “No one will tell me anything. How bad was it?”

Evan knew what he meant, knew John wanted to know about Mitchell. He could tell a white lie, gloss it over and give John a few hour’s peace of mind, or he could just tell him the truth and let him deal with it as he would.

“Don’t sugar coat it Evan.”

“It was bad, Sheppard. Mitchell snapped. He was going for Beckett’s throat when McKay shot him.”

All the color drained out of John’s face and his hands clenched the blanket draped over his lap. “McKay shot him? Rodney shot Cam?”

Rushing to reassure his friend, Evan explained, “With Ronon’s blaster. He only stunned him. You bled a lot, John; it tripped him over into a blood-rage. I managed to keep him calm for a while, but when Carson tried to work on you, he lost it.”

“He went after CB?”

“It must have been the knife, Carson was trying to cut you out of your pack, and I think the knife freaked Mitchell out. He went berserk.”

John sagged back, tilting his head back and staring at the ceiling. “I was barely holding on, Ev. The inhibitors were helping, but it was a fight to keep control of this. If the blood-rage threw him over the edge, if he’s gone Main Phase…”

“You’re going to follow. I’m sorry, John. I am so sorry I got you into this.” Lorne reached down to squeeze Sheppard’s hand once before releasing it.

With a weak snort, John mumbled, “Could have been worse, could have been Leavenworth, or Maybourne.”

“Ah, now, how’d you get in here?” Carson swatted Lorne’s shoulder as he bustled over to check John’s pulse and look into his eyes.

“Leave him alone, CB, he’s the only one willing to tell me what’s going on.”

“Would you rather I give you incomplete information? I was waiting for test results. You’re fine, you great clumsy booby. Your Cameron is still unconscious, I administered a mild muscle relaxant, and the combination of that, the effects of the stunner and the crash coming down from the berserker are keeping him under. The longer he sleeps the better he’ll be for it.”

John pursed his lips, apparently still unhappy with the situation. “Can you tell if he’s gone…?”

“No. I mean, yes, I can tell, and no he hasn’t slid over into Main Phase, though it was a very near thing, with him hovering so close to begin with. Rodney probably did the only thing that could have helped by stunning the lad, I’ll have to have a word or two with him, I wonder if he knew what he was doing?”

“You’re talking about Rodney; he knew what he was doing,” John snickered with relief and settled against the pillows. “Cam’s okay?”

“He’ll be fine, you rest here for a bit, I want to get at least one bag of that fluid and antibiotic into you, then you can get back to dealing with the Wraith,” Carson pointed to the IV hanging near John’s head before he walked away.

“How’s Ronon? I heard him complaining on the other side of the room a little while ago.”

Lorne replied, “Broken arm, some cracked ribs. He hates the cast. Sills is fine, so is the rest of your team. You probably should reconsider heading the flag team.” Evan held up a hand as John sputtered in annoyance and opened his mouth to complain, “Before you bite my head off, give me a chance to talk.”

John sat back and crossed his arms, willing to listen.

“If you were fully bonded and not dancing on the edge trying to avoid setting off the next phase, getting banged up now and then might upset your _panor'eten_ , but it wouldn’t be the debacle that this afternoon was.”

The man had a point, John was forced to concede. At John’s nod, Lorne smiled and inclined his head, gracious in victory. He continued to stare at Sheppard. “I think maybe he cares more for you than he planned to.”

“It’s all chemical.”

“No, I don’t think so. I’ve seen how he is with you; I’ve noticed that he watches you. I think there’s something there, John.”

John fidgeted; Evan’s words and intense stare were making him nervous. He hated talking about feelings, and Evan was going there.

Mercifully, Evan seemed to know he was making John uncomfortable. He dropped the subject. “I’ll be by later to bust you out of here.”

Sending prayers of thanks to God and guardian angels that his friend wasn’t seriously hurt, Lorne made his way out of the infirmary. He could concentrate on his work now, on what needed to be done in preparation for a siege by the Wraith.

~*~

Earthquake? Cam opened his eyes as the world shook around him, rocking the hospital bed he was strapped to. “Hey! Hey, someone let me up!” He struggled for a few moments against the restraints holding him. It wasn’t an earthquake - the base was under bombardment. He groaned and swore silently as he remembered the Gate Room and John being injured and knew he’d probably given Beckett some trouble to have earned his way to lockdown like this.

“Carson!” he bellowed as the lights flickered. How long had the Wraith been here? How long had Atlantis been under attack? “Carson!”

“I’m here, I’m here. If you promise to behave, I’ll let you up.” Beckett shone a penlight in his eyes, nodding in satisfaction as he stepped back a little. “You’re doing fine now; your numbers are still off, but not too far outside. I’m warning you now, Cameron, I won’t be able to pull you back again. You are only a few percentage points from being officially in Main Phase, the inhibitors will not work if you go any higher. Now isn’t the time for this discussion, but you need to seriously think about this relationship. You come find me when you lads have dealt with the Wraith and we’ll have a civilized discussion over a wee dram,” Carson had been releasing the restraints as he spoke and he slapped Cam’s shoulder. “Off with ya, now.”

Not waiting for Carson to possibly change his mind, Cam quickly left the infirmary and made his way up to the Control Room. John looked up as he entered, and an odd mixture of relief and something else crossed his face before the mask he wore around the base slipped into place. He was professional, once more.

“Bring me up to speed, please, gentlemen.”

“The Wraith arrived an hour ago. Data indicated they knew our position. Based on McKay’s assessment, I ordered the switch from camouflage to shields.” John tapped a video monitor and Cam glanced at the screen.

“Good call. I would have done the same. How are the shields holding?”

“So far, so good. Zelenka had an idea for a program to stagger the shield and allow for instant drops so we could fire back at them. Zelenka and the monkeys are down in the lab working on it now. The marines and seals have the rail guns primed, manned and ready. We transported all the Athosians over from the mainland, they are unhappy about it, but making camp in Building Seven.”

Cam pulled a rolling chair over to a computer station and sank down onto it, cueing up the city logs and reviewing reports as quickly as he could scroll through them. It looked to him like everything that needed to be done was underway.

“I found something that might be of use… oh, Mitchell, you’re up, good, welcome back. I’m sorry about the shooting thing.” McKay came up the stairwell and skidded to a halt beside Sheppard, holding out a datapad. John tilted his head in Cam’s direction, deferring the privilege to his CO.

Waving off McKay’s apology, Cam took the datapad. “What am I looking at?” Cam asked, squinting at the screen, his Ancient language recognition was minimal, this was gibberish to him.

John leaned over his shoulder to read and then touched a finger to a diagram. “I think this is a weapon.” Once it was pointed out to him, Cam could see it in the design and nodded his agreement.

“What kind of weapon?”

“An energy pulse weapon, very similar to Ronon’s gun, it should be here in the city, according to the records I found. There’s a separate weapons chair that operates it.”

Cam smiled with amusement as John’s tongue darted out and he licked his lips at that news. Like Pavlov’s dog, his _keri_ was. “Another chair? Do you happen to have a map?”

“Yup. Wanna go find it?”

“Commodore?” John turned to Cam, anticipation of finding a new toy making his eyes shine.

“Go on. I’ll stay here and mind the store, practice my chess strategies on Chuck here, pray a little that the Wraith don’t bust through the shield. You go on along and have yourselves an adventure.” He sat back in his chair and gave them a mock pout.

John hesitated, wanting very much to go off with Rodney on the hunt. He leaned over and suggested, “You could make Lorne come up and stay here while you come with us make sure your _keri_ stays out of trouble.”

“That’s devious,” Cameron replied. He pointed to John’s comm, and John handed it over. He pressed it between his fingers to activate the mic and said cheerily, “Major Lorne, please report to the Control Room.” With a grin, he handed the unit back to John.

~*~

Dragging four marines along as security, they found the auxiliary chair room after an hour and a half of walking from the transporter, in a lower level that had not been explored yet. It was not on Lorne’s schedule to be explored for several months, being so far from the transporter. The various consoles and equipment were covered in shimmering drop cloths, like those they had found upstairs when they first arrived in the city three years earlier.

“It looks like this room could act as a secondary Control Room, in an emergency. Most of the primary systems seem to be represented on these panels,” McKay said as he examined the equipment.

Cam asked Rodney, “See anything about the weapon?”

Bouncing on his toes, with his fingers caressing the armrest, John tilted his head towards the chair with a pleading look on his face. When Mitchell didn’t take the cue, John blew out a breath and said, “I can probably find out something through the chair interface.”

“Go ahead; you’re going to anyway, so let’s cut to the chase and save the argument.” Cam waved his hand at the chair and John gave an excited yip and practically threw himself into it.

The chair glowed red beneath John, different from the usual blue of the control chair. He looked up at Cam as he rode it back into a reclining position and said in a husky voice that went straight to Cam’s groin, “Weapons, Cam, weapons.”

“Don’t zone out completely Sheppard, keep us in the loop on what you find.” Cam squeezed John’s hand to get his attention and he nodded. Cam stepped back to lean against the wall and stand guard over his _keri_ , it was why he had come along, after all.

~*~

“Oh, man, this is different,” John exclaimed as the weapons interfaces came online. He tried to focus on what he was looking for, the weapon McKay had shown him. It wasn’t easy. Lorne liked to tease that Atlantis was a Labrador retriever that would sit up and roll over for John’s amusement. If that analogy was apt, then the weapons interface was a crazed puppy, wriggling and overeager to play with John. Everything he thought about flashed in front of his face, fetched by the system and presented before him like an offering.

He felt an insistent tugging on his foot and Cam’s voice was harsh as he demanded, “Different how, Sub Commander?” Mitchell must have been repeating the question, to be using John’s rank so pointedly.

John tried to find the words to explain. “More focused, there’s less diversity of purpose. It only has to control weapons, so all the fluff I usually have to weed through is stripped off. And eager. Oh, man, this thing just wants to play so bad!”

Rodney, standing beside Cam, slapped his foot. “Find the weapon, Sheppard. Play later. Wraith at the door, remember.”

He’d actually forgotten in his excitement at the new interface. He sent the cyber puppy off to fetch what he wanted and waited, talking through what he was doing as much as he could with the interface drawing his attention away. “I’m trying to pull up the sensors. Oh, neat. That worked. The hives are still taking potshots.”

He wished he had time to explore this, there were so many facets to this system that the main control system didn’t have. Something blinked and caught his attention. “I’ve got access to the pulse weapon.”

Warm breath washed over his ear and Cam’s voice was right there with him in the interface. “Send the information to the panel by McKay, John.”

“Right. Transferring. You should be able to see it now, Rodney.” He was losing himself in this; he wondered how long Cam had been talking to him before he got right up into his face to get his attention.

John shifted through various screens, reading what he could find about the weapon. Cam’s hand slapping against his thigh brought him back to ground again. “Up. Up and out.”

Reluctantly, he closed the interface screens, banishing his friendly puppy, and let the chair slide back to an upright position. He blinked blearily at Mitchell, who was leaning forward with his hands braced on his knees glaring at John reproachfully. “We have a problem.” Cameron pointed at McKay, standing over the panel with a skeptical look on his face.

John slid off the chair and walked over to look at where Rodney was pointing, and blinked at the screen in confusion until he realized the sequence of events that would have to happen to fire the weapon. His shoulders slumped. “We’d have to drop the shield in order to fire.”

“And it would deplete one of the ZPMs completely,” McKay added as Cam looked over at him with one eyebrow quirked when he waved his hand at the console.

“What about Zelenka’s hop-scotch shield idea?”

He clicked his radio. “Zelenka? How’s Skippy the Shield project going?”

“I’m nearly done, which I came up to Control Room to tell you. Where are you? I am in the Control Room and you do not appear on sensors.”

“In the auxiliary chair room, I assume you can’t see us because of security screens to protect the room in case of attack.”

“Where? Did you say auxiliary chair?”

“Yes. I’m sending some specs up to the mainframe. Look it over, will Skippy work with it?”

“ _Ano._ Yes, I think so. Can you access this weapon?”

John answered Radek’s question. “Already have. I was able to initialize it; I didn’t power it up though.”

“Sub Commander, you should perhaps hold off on that, it looks like it will suck one of the ZPMs dry.”

Looking to Cam, Rodney said, “It might be worth it, if we can take out both hives.” He turned to John and asked, “Will you be able to handle the targeting?”

“Easy. Point and shoot.”

Rodney turned back to Mitchell and informed him, “We’ll have to drop the shields at random intervals over the city to use the weapon. The Wraith might get a few lucky shots in.”

“McKay, how good are the odds that we can destroy the hives with this?” Mitchell asked as he stared at McKay.

“I don’t think we’ll get a better shot. If we do this sooner, rather than later, and we take out the hives quickly, and I have no reason to believe Quick Draw Sheppard won’t do so, we’ll save the hit to our original ZPM. No harm, no foul, we’ll be back where we started before the Wraith showed up.”

Mitchell tugged his lower lip as he considered it. “So long as they don’t hit us when the shields go down.”

“I think the risk is acceptable. What are the chances the Wraith will be ready to fire at the same time we do?” Rodney asked, irritation creeping into his voice. They had a workable plan now, Rodney would be eager to see it enacted, and eager Rodney was impatient Rodney.

When Cam looked over at John, he shrugged and said, “I’d rather go down fighting.”

“Do it,” Mitchell ordered. “Sheppard, take the chair.”

It all happened very quickly after that. John initialized the weapon, targeted the first Wraith hive and fired when the interface blinked blue at him to indicate the shield was down. He smiled as he saw the indicator light representing the targeted hive vanish from the sensor screens. His smile faded as he realized the shields were not reconfiguring as quickly as necessary.

“Cameron, the shields are down!” he shouted, just as the first volley from the second hive hit the city. The screens around John flashed in a multitude of colors, warnings about damaged areas, systems affected by the damage, systems failing. He struggled to concentrate, to find the control for the weapon again and bring it around to fire. Closing his eyes, he forced the chair to work with him and fire at the Wraith ship.

“Feedback warning!” McKay cried. “The weapon is overloading, Sheppard, get out of the chair! Now, John!”

John vaguely heard the shouts of his companions, but he was mired down in layers and layers of data being forced on him by the malfunctioning weapon systems and he was having trouble thinking.

“Oh no, you don’t. Not again!” Cameron’s voice was angry as he snarled in John’s ear. John felt a strong arm go around his back and another under his thighs, and he was lifted up out of the chair. Stumbling sideways, Cam fell, going down with John on top of him.

He shook his head, trying to clear it, as hands lifted him under his armpits and pulled on him until he was sitting. “Up you go. You okay, Sheppard?”

“Yeah, Cam. Just a little buzzed. Feedback is a bitch.” He wobbled a little and pulled his knees up to steady himself. “Give me a minute, I’ll be all right.” He dropped his head onto his knees and closed his eyes. He just needed a minute to collect himself.

Patting John’s shoulder, Cam scrambled up and was demanding damage reports as McKay tried to pull up information screens and find where the Wraith had hit the city. “We’ve lost the data connection to the Control Room, Commodore; we’ll need to go back up. Communications are also down. I’ll head up there, you’ll take care of John, I assume?”

“Yeah McKay, I’ve got him, go.”

A hand dropped onto his head, gently smoothing his hair. John opened his eyes and saw Cam crouched in front of him. “You scared me again.” He found himself hauled into Mitchell’s arms and hugged tightly. He should have pushed away, but it felt too good. He closed his eyes and let Cam hold him. It was just for a minute, while his brain reset and the spots of light went away. Cam’s hand was in his hair, cradling his head, holding him pressed against his neck and shoulder. Cam was warm, comfortable. He sucked up the comfort he was offering for a short time, then closed his eyes and pushed away from Cam.

“We should go. We’ve got quite a walk.” John struggled to his feet, using Cam’s shoulders for balance.

Mitchell steadied him and caught his hand. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Let’s go.”

~*~

Lorne met them on the stairs, relief on his face when they appeared in the Gate Room. “Damage report, Major,” Cam snapped. He was tired, irritated and perplexed. On the walk back up, John had become monosyllabic, and eventually Cam gave up trying to engage him in conversation.

“Comms are still down, as you know, the relay on the tower took a hit, it will be a while before we can get it fixed. The walkies work, within short range, I’ve issued those to medical and the Search and Rescue teams.”

S&R meant people were hurt. “Damn. Where?”

“Building five was hit directly. Building Seventeen took damage when the top of Building Eighteen hit it. They’re still digging survivors out of Seventeen, there were three science teams working there in their labs. Eighteen was unoccupied. Ten of the fifteen people in the labs are accounted for.”

Cam nodded tersely. “And Five?”

“Gone, sir. Vaporized.”

“Casualties?”

“We’re waiting for verification, but there were nine civilians and three marines reported to be in the building when the attack came.”

He wracked his brain but could not remember, so he asked, “What was in Five?”

“The auxiliary greenhouse and hydroponics test lab.”

Beside him, John went still and then demanded, “Where’s McKay?”

“In your office. I didn’t know what else to do with him John,” Lorne said as John tore past him up the stairs.

Cam was confused at John’s behavior. “What? This wasn’t McKay’s fault; there was a chance the Wraith would get a hit in. Is he blaming himself for this?”

Lorne nodded tightly. “There’s more, sir. McKay’s _keri_ , Katie. She was in the greenhouse.”

“Oh. Shit.” Mitchell punched a fist into his palm and stared heavenward.

“He’s taking it rather well, considering. He’s been calm. He hasn’t said anything since we got word. I know he’s probably in shock, but medical is overrun right now. Beckett said so long as he’s calm and quiet to keep an eye on him, there’s nothing he can do except sedate him, which he prefers to do only if necessary.

Cam nodded; McKay needed to grieve naturally, to let the bond dissolve. He had gotten the sense that McKay and his _keri_ did not share a true bond, so it was highly unlikely that McKay was going to pine away in the aftermath of his loss. But he had lost his partner, his wife, to use the old word. He would need time to grieve.

“Dispatch anyone that can be spared from regular duties to help with the cleanup; we need to get things up and running again.” Lorne didn’t need to hear the words, it didn’t really matter what Cam ordered right now, so long as he gave some token sign of being in command. The major already had things under control; there were systems and procedures in place for disasters like this. “Don’t worry about the scheduled duty roster or the project schedules. Let everyone take a few days to get past this. Get me a list of the families; I want to go see them before the day is out.”

“Within the hour, sir.” Lorne still refused to call him Cam when he was on duty.

He turned to the stairs and went up towards John’s office, only noticing about halfway up that Evan was still at his side. He stopped and looked at his friend. “This sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“McKay’s _keri_. I can’t imagine how he’s feeling right now. I’m not even fully bonded and the thought of being in his position, of it being John that was gone…”

“You’re not letting him go, are you?” Evan asked quietly.

Cameron considered the question; it was the second time that day that someone had pushed him to think about this. Beckett had put it to him as well, though he hadn’t waited for a response. He shook his head and answered honestly. “I really don’t think I can, not anymore.”

Evan nodded. “I thought not. I’ll get those lists you requested.” He turned and jogged off down the stairs.

The windows of John’s office were darkened, shaded for privacy. The door, one of the folding screen-type entries, was standing partially open. Cam poked his head inside. He heard muffled crying in the corner and he peered into the dimly lit room, waiting for his eyes to adjust. They were on the floor in front of the windows; Rodney curled in a ball, partially in John’s lap as his _keri_ held his quietly sobbing friend.

Lifting his head, John saw him and raised a hand to beckon him closer, then pointed to the water bottle on the edge of the desk. Cam picked it up and carried it over. He slid down to the floor beside John with his back to the window and handed the bottle to him.

“Rodney. Drink some water.” John nudged the bottle against McKay’s chin, holding it there until Rodney took it in one shaking hand and drank. He sank back against John and just rested there quietly for a few minutes.

“My fault,” Rodney said, his voice muffled against John’s shirt.

Mitchell couldn’t let him take the brunt of this, not on top of what he had lost. He reached out and clasped Rodney’s forearm, tugging until Rodney looked over at him. “No. It was my decision. My order. My fault. You gave me your opinion, McKay. You did not give the order, I did.”

Rodney closed his eyes and turned his head into John’s shoulder and began to sob again. “I’m going to go. You’ll look after him?” Mitchell asked, climbing slowly to his feet. He had done what he meant to do here, McKay wouldn’t gain any comfort from his presence.

“Unless something else comes up that I’m needed for. I’ll stay here. I’ll see you later,” John replied.

“Cameron,” he called out, and when Cam looked back he mouthed, “Thank you.”

~*~

Cam was awake and waiting when the door slid open that night and John stumbled in. He fell heavily onto the bed and rolled on his side, facing away from him. Cam wasn’t allowing it, not tonight. He scooted over and curled himself around his _keri_ , tucking his chin over John’s shoulder and his right arm across his belly. John tensed up at first, this wasn’t how they did this, wasn’t how they slept. Sometimes they woke pressed together, but it was never deliberate.

Cam’s left arm ended up curled across the top of the pillow, over John’s head.

Eventually, by inches, John relaxed in Cam’s arms. His hand drifted up and he pressed their palms together, interlinking their fingers.

John began to talk, his voice low and filled with grief, his own and what he had undoubtedly absorbed from Rodney. “She was my friend too. She was sweet, and simple and kind. She loved horses; she used to spend summers teaching disabled kids to ride for therapy. She ate apples with a fork and knife and liked to spread peanut butter on the slices. She loved children. And she hated Atlantis. She hated it here with every fiber of her being, but her _panor'eten_ was here and so she came. And now she’s dead, and Rodney has no one again.”

John didn’t sob as Rodney had, but he did begin to shake. Cam held him tightly, knowing that like Rodney earlier in John’s office; John just needed someone to hold it together for him while he went to pieces for a time.

“Shhh, _keri_. I know. I know,” Cam whispered, pressing a kiss to John’s shoulder.


	10. Get on With It!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Here there be sex. Or is that more of a tease than a warning?

Locking down the snap that held the tripod leg in place, Cam adjusted the angle of the camera and moved over to the railing. He smoothed out his uniform jacket and pointed the remote control, clicking the button that would start the recording. Once he saw the indicator light begin to blink, he took a deep breath and began talking.

“Hi Momma,” he gave a brief self-conscious wave. “You’re probably surprised to be getting this. I prefer old fashioned letters, but with the mail being the way it is, you know, non-existent, we’re having to compromise. The families of the first Expedition out here really got a charge out of the vid-letters that were sent back through the datastreams, so SGO requested we each do one now and then. Well, here it is, you’ll be watching whatever they let through the security vetting process. We’ve been here a little over two months already. I can’t believe it; time really flies when you’re busy.”

He swung a hand out towards the ocean behind him. “So, this is the view from my room, not bad, huh? I get a nice cross-breeze when I leave the balcony doors open. If John doesn’t close them as soon as he comes in,” Cam chuckled and shook his head in bemusement, “You were right of course, Momma: he’s too thin, not enough meat on his bones to keep him warm, he’s always cold.”

The wind kicked up and Cam worried for a moment that the sound would get washed out on the video, so he rewound what he had recorded and checked it. It was fine so he started it up again. “I don’t really know what to say, or even where to start, Momma. I wish I was at the kitchen table with you, so we could talk all this stuff out properly, without some tech in security reviewing everything.”

“We’ve had a rough couple of weeks here. There was an attack on the base and we lost people. I lost people, Momma.” Cam rubbed at his forehead. “Civilians. There were five civilians in one of the buildings when it was destroyed.” He stopped the recording again, leaned back against the railing and ran a hand over his face. He thought he could talk about this without breaking down, it had been weeks, he should be able to cope with this by now. But the hand holding the remote was shaking when he held it out to restart the camera. He clenched it into a fist and looked into the lens, knowing his mother, of all people, would be able to pick up on his body language and interpret what he was unable to put into words. She had asked him when he had first gone into service to never hide anything from her, even if he thought it might hurt her, because she needed to know the truth. When security allowed it, when he was able to tell her facts he did, the least he could give her was the honesty of his emotions.

“I don’t really want to talk about that right now. I’m trying to think of what you’d be asking me if this was a phone call home. The food is okay, we’re still fully stocked up, so we haven’t resorted to substituting extremely weird local stuff to get our nutritional needs met yet. The cooks do push a Pegasus staple, tava root, which isn’t too bad if you load on lots of pepper and butter substitute.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels as he stared up at the sky, composing his thoughts. “The city is everything I was told to expect, and more. The pictures and videos didn’t do it justice, just like John was saying at the barbecue. I’ve got good people working with me, they all know their jobs, and things run very smoothly. I supposedly have an executive assistant, I have been told that I do, but I have yet to meet him. Maybe I have and everyone is having a laugh at my expense. There’s no such thing as ghosts, right? Or invisible people? I refuse to believe I have an invisible Air Services officer doing my paperwork. Lorne must be playing a joke on me.”

Mitchell chewed on his lip, wishing now that he’d written out notes on what to say instead of winging it. “This thing with John...” he sighed and looked out at the water again. “It was going well for a while, we had a few routines, I thought we were getting comfortable, getting used to each other. But after the attack, he started pulling away. There’s no other way to describe it. He hasn’t been running in the mornings, he’s left me alone with just Ronon for company, and Ronon is taking out his annoyance about that on me by making the course harder and longer. Either that or rambling on in great detail about baby poop. The man is now obsessed with his infant’s eating and bowel movements in a way that cannot be healthy.”

Cam smirked a little as he thought about Ronon, whom he had grown quite friendly with over the past few weeks. The big man was actually more than a little adorable in his fascination with his new daughter, Torra, named for Teyla’s father.

“John and I used to have at least one meal together during the day, but he’s been avoiding the mess hall. Don’t worry, Momma, Lorne assures me that he is eating, usually in his office or with Rodney in his lab. Even in work meetings, he says as little as possible and runs out as soon as he can get away with it. He’s avoiding me.” Looking at the camera, not bothering to hide the distress that had to be showing in his eyes, Cam admitted it aloud. Sheppard had been making a pointed effort to be in a place where Mitchell was not, ever since the Wraith attack. “I’m not even sure what I did, what I said.”

Cam exhaled heavily and buried his hands in his armpits. Then he realized that was too much body language for whoever would be vetting the film to read, and grasped the handrail behind him instead. “I know what you’d say now. You probably slap me upside the head and tell me 'go talk to the boy.' But what do I say? I promised him that I wouldn’t hold him to the contract if he wanted out, Momma. It looks like he wants out. There aren’t any lawyers here to interfere, to make us hold to the letter of the law. Maybe I should just cut him loose now, go to Beckett and get him to dose me with blockers, break the beginning bond that we already have.”

Even as he said it, Cam knew that wasn’t what he wanted to do. He hadn’t realized he was missing anything in his life, missing someone, until he sort of had John there. Now that John was doing everything he could to be elsewhere, Cam clearly saw the gaping holes in his life. In a little less than three months of having a _keri_ , his life was upside down and changed. He didn’t know if he could be satisfied going back to being by himself, living out his life as a confirmed old bachelor.

“I guess you did a good job raising me, Momma. I hear your voice when you’re not even here. I think I can anticipate the questions you’d ask. Now, you’d ask me if that was what I wanted, to call this contract off. I don’t think I do. Then you’d tell me to go talk to John. So, I guess now I have to see if that’s what he wants to do. And then figure out how to change his mind if he tries to give me the heave-ho.”

~*~

The Memorial Garden had started with Sumner’s death three years ago. Some of the men that had served with Commodore Sumner had tacked pictures to a wall in one of the wide, protected courtyards not far from the central spire of the city. People had added notes written in permanent marker on the wall, some quite poignant; remembrances of the man that had first led them through the Gate and briefly headed the mission before his poorly timed demise. As other members of the expedition had been lost in the years following, other makeshift memorials had been erected, a tradition had started.

Off duty, John wandered along one of the older pathways, his hands shoved in his pockets, miserable and feeling the need to avoid people. He knew he was confusing Cam, actively and obviously pushing him away like he was, but it was for the best. Later, when it was time for all of this to be over, when the contract was up and Cam could walk away, it would be easier. He was stepping aside, letting Cam have his freedom. John had realized after the attack that he had strong feelings for his temporary __panor'eten_ , feelings that would just make things so much more painful when the time to separate came, if John allowed them to develop any more than they had._

Someone else was crouched down beside the path ahead. As he drew closer, John saw that it was Parrish, digging in the dirt at the base of a small tree. When he’d come here, as he had been doing in his off time for weeks now, he did it because he thought he wanted to be alone. But seeing his friend working there made him realize perhaps he didn’t want that after all. David wasn’t Rodney, who had been moody and needy and self absorbed since Katie’s death, unaware that John’s mind was in turmoil, that he was hurting too. Being with Rodney made John tired; he needed too much right now. Sheppard knew it was not intentional, it was just the way Rodney was, and grief magnified every emotion Rodney felt. Of the others he usually turned to for support in those times he needed an ear to listen to him: CB was buried in work, as was Lorne. John felt guilty taking any of their time with his complaints. Teyla and Ronon had Torra now, a bright light in the dark days following the Wraith attack, but still a source of exhaustion for the young parents.

John walked over, shuffled to a stop on the walkway and said sullenly, “Hullo, David.”

“Oh, John! Hello, I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Whatcha doin?”

Flinging dirt as he gestured with his gloved hands, David replied, “The usual. I found some saplings over on the mainland that shouldn’t grow too outrageously large, and I’ve been transplanting them here. You look terrible.”

Trust David to be direct. The botanist was like Rodney in that way, truthful and sometimes blunt. It must be a scientist thing. But David was a bit better with people than McKay; he had a kind and sympathetic heart where Rodney could be callous at times, when he wasn’t thinking about how he said what he said. John returned the honest observation with an honest answer. “I feel terrible.”

David put his small shovel aside and patted the spot beside him. John sank down onto the grass and sat with his legs crossed, Indian-style. “Having trouble with your _panor'eten_?”

“Bullseye.” John tugged out a blade of grass, avoiding Parrish’s eye. Like CB, David could sometimes get John to spill things he would rather not talk about. Unlike the doctor, David was also _keri_ , and so understood things about John that no one else could, from the same perspective.

“Fighting?”

“No, nothing like that. I just think… I’m trying to keep my distance, trying to let him go now.”

Parrish reached over and touched John’s arm, squeezing it until John looked up and met his eyes. “You want out of the contract?”

“It’s not what I want, it’s what he… it’s what’s going to happen anyway, so why delay the inevitable?”

“So, you don’t want out?”

John stared at the ground, focusing on a single spot in front of him. When David nudged his arm for an answer, he whispered, “No. I want to stay. God help me, I want to stay.”

“God helps those who help themselves, John. You need to fight, if you want him.”

“I don’t have any right to ask. It has to be his decision.”

Parrish smacked his arm lightly. “Bullshit! He signed a contract with you, Sheppard. That gives you rights. Mitchell doesn’t strike me as the flaky, flirty, sleep around kind. He’s the family and dog and bring ‘em home to Mother type.”

There was sense in David’s words. Cameron had literally brought him home to Momma, after all. He chuckled ruefully and rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his stinging eyes and changed the subject. “Maybe. Did you plant those flowers by Katie’s memorial? McKay noticed them, he appreciated it.”

“It was the least I could do. I’m going to go now, John. I do believe your _panor'eten_ is looking for you.”

“Huh?”

David tossed his chin at the path beyond them as he stood and brushed the dirt off his pants. Following David’s line of sight, John saw Cameron striding towards them. “Talk to him, John. Stop hiding out in my garden.” David took off his gloves, dropped them into his toolbox and walked away, whistling.

“It’s not your garden, it’s everybody’s garden, Parrish!” John called after him. David’s answer was a dismissive wave of his hand without even looking back as he continued to whistle out of tune.

“Gardeners can bit a bit proprietary about their patches of earth,” Mitchell remarked as he walked up to where John was sitting on the grass. “May I join you?”

His answer was to pat the ground beside him, as David had done earlier. Cam dropped down, stretched his legs out in front of him and reclined back on his elbows to stare up at the sky. “We were supposed to talk.”

Confused for a moment until he remembered that they had indeed agreed to a conversation, back before all the shit hit the fan, John gave a hesitant nod. He didn’t know what to say, or where to start. If he did, he wouldn’t have been ditching Mitchell at every opportunity. He sneaked a peek over at Cameron and the knot in his gut, the one that had been there for weeks now, twisted, made him ache as it did each time he looked his way. He wanted. For the first time in his life, he wanted.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Cameron hissed in accusation, giving John an annoyed glance as he said it. “I don’t like that.”

“I didn’t know what else to do. I’m not good with this…” John tapped his chest and then waved at Cameron. “I don’t do relationships. I’ve only ever had playmates. With them, it never mattered when it was over what was said or wasn’t said. We have to work together; we have to find a way to work together.”

Cam sat up as John spoke. “So this is over?”

Looking down at his lap, John’s shoulders lifted slightly in a half-hearted shrug. “Probably for the best.”

~*~

Staring in disbelief at his _keri_ , who was apparently really and actually breaking up with him, Cam didn’t know how to respond. He sat quietly for a minute. “Why is it for the best? What did I do wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one. I shouldn’t have agreed to this. I should have torn up the papers and just gone with Maybourne. I’m sorry and I won’t cause you a problem, I swear,” John was refusing to look up and his voice had gotten quieter and quieter as he rambled out his answer. John unfolded his legs and started to get up, preparing to bolt. Cam stopped him, grabbing his wrist and holding him there.

He thought about John’s sudden withdrawal, this backing away and distancing himself, protecting himself. His _keri was_ protecting himself, as he’d always had to do in the past, had learned to do without a _panor_.

“John, was I making you unhappy?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“I thought… I thought it would be easier to cut ties now.”

“Why?”

John shrugged, staring at the ground, not meeting his eyes. “Hurts less.”

“It can’t hurt at all unless one of us has feelings involved.” Cam was beginning to suspect what was going on. He couldn’t help the small, relieved smile from quirking his lips up. “Do you have some feelings for me, John?”

Shrugging again, John mumbled something Cam couldn’t make out. He reached over and grabbed John’s chin, forcing his face up and around in his direction. Everything was right there, in John’s eyes. “You do.”

John pulled his chin out of Cam’s hand, looking away, hiding his face. But Cam had seen enough. “You should have come to me, instead of being all noble and sacrificing and stepping aside like some heroine in a trashy romance book.”

John looked at him and then he began to snicker. “I suck at this.”

“You really, really do,” Cam agreed. He reached over and picked up John’s wrist and began to massage away the red spot he had made earlier. Then he clasped John’s hand and intertwined their fingers.

~*~

John stared down at their joined hands for a minute, a small smile on his face. He had never been so pleased to be wrong about something.

But now what? He had missed Cam; he missed sleeping beside him, for he had returned to his own bed after the night of the Wraith attack when he had broken down in Cam’s arms. His body was feeling the loss of the morning run; the shorter PT runs with the marines were not filling his needs. Mealtimes were lonely, without someone to talk to. He missed dissecting mission reports and assessments with Mitchell, comparing notes on the running of the city. He missed playing chess or video games in the evenings after their duty shifts were over, not that there had been much time for it, but they had squeezed in a few games here and there.

He felt a bit foolish, in retrospect; he had let his own insecurities overrun him. Judging by Cam’s reaction, he had probably been a bit premature with his preemptive strike to avoid emotional entanglement. Or too late, it seemed they were already entangled.

“I don’t want to break the contract,” Cam blurted suddenly. When John looked up at him, he said in a rush, “I don’t need to wait another eight months, I know now. Think it over; I’m leaving it up to you, like I promised back on Earth. If you still want out, I understand, I won’t hold you to anything. But I want this, the whole thing… with you, John.”

Shaken by the words, by what Cam was suggesting, John sat silently, staring down at their hands. He had not envisioned this, he had been fully prepared to walk away and now Cameron was pulling him closer. Permanence - no more contract, no more inhibitors - all in.

“I can’t,” fear made him answer. “I don’t want to carry, I’m terrified of it.”

“Are you calling me a liar, Sheppard?”

Startled at the tone, John’s head snapped up. “What? No.”

“I promised you, when we left Kansas, that I’d never make you go through that. If I have to break the law to keep that promise, I will. No babies, John, unless you want them, that will be your call to make.”

Choice. Cameron was giving him what had been taken from him when he was twelve and made _keri_ : a choice. How could he walk away from the first _panor_ he had ever met that understood what that meant to him? Understood and was willing to have him anyway?

“Just think about it, John, take as long as you need to.” Cam climbed to his feet and stretched, raising his hands up over his head and bending back, joints cracking and popping as he did so. “Meet me for dinner?”

“I’ll come now.” John rolled to his knees and then stood and took the hand Cam held out to him. His mind was spinning, rolling over all the possibilities and consequences of the decision that was now his to make. Lost in thought, he let Cam lead him along the path through the Memorial Garden. Cam paused, his steps faltering as they neared the section of wall dedicated to the those recently lost in the Wraith attack.

Seeing the sadness and guilt that crossed Cameron’s face, John tugged his hand to draw his attention away from the distressing sight. “I know what you said to Rodney, but it wasn’t really your fault. You gave the only order that made sense. You had no way of knowing this would be the outcome. You decided for the good of the city.”

“Tell that to their mothers and fathers, their families.”

“There are three hundred other people on this base, Cameron. When the shields crashed after two months of constant bombardment, they would be dead as well, we’d all be dead. War sucks. The Wraith suck. Dead innocents suck. You did your best in a really crappy situation.”

Cam squeezed his hand and nodded, his eyes still on the mementos scattered along the wall. He shook himself, leaned over and kissed John’s temple. “Let’s go, I’m hungry.”

When they walked into the mess hall, John immediately spotted Lorne and Parrish; their heads bent together over a piece of paper on the table between them, their meal trays shoved to one side. Lorne’s eyes came up and then he blinked and smiled as his gaze flickered down to where Sheppard was still holding tightly to Mitchell’s hand. He dropped it, but Lorne had already seen. The Major waved them over, indicating they should take the empty seats beside David and him. John waved in acknowledgement and went with Cam to the food service counter, where he collected a tray of meatloaf and twice baked tava root.

Walking over to the table, John stared down at his plate, wrinkled his nose and commented to Cam, “They could bake it three times, it still tastes like… oh, hello Teyla!” He almost ran into her, he had been so intent on the distressing contents of his tray.

She smiled at him, and reached up to brush a lock of fallen hair back from his forehead. She caressed his cheek fondly as she withdrew her hand. “You do not need to pretend on my account, John, I am aware of your dislike of tava root, I shall not take offense.”

“Yeah, well, it was your treaty and you worked hard on it, so I didn’t want to make you feel bad. But I really hate tava root.”

“Then you must trade for my macaroni and cheese.” She made the switch of the bowls on their trays. “Now we shall both be pleased with our meals, shall we join Major Lorne and Doctor Parrish? Hello Commodore.”

Moving to the table, Cameron smiled, “Teyla. It is good to see you out and about. How’s the little one?” Cam inclined his head at the bump in the sling banded across her chest and then leaned down to tug the sling aside and peek in at the baby.

Carefully arranging herself and the baby in a chair, Teyla stroked the tiny head and replied, “Torra thrives, I could not ask more of the Ancestors.”

Dinner was pleasant; the conversation lighter than it had been over the past few weeks in the aftermath of the deaths caused by the Wraith. David was his usual jovial self, and regaled the table with embarrassing stories about Evan and their last vacation together on Earth. John snuck frequent glances at Cam, still mulling over committing to a future with him. The conversation broke up when Torra began to wail and Teyla excused herself to see to the infant’s needs.

“Up for a game of Sharpshooter Three?” Cam asked when he saw that John was merely pushing around the remnants of food on his plate with his fork.

“Sure. You owe me a rematch. See ya later guys.” John waved and then scooped up his tray and headed for the recycling bins.

Two hours later, John’s eyes were beginning to cross and Cam was up by ten games, which meant John owed him ten days of laundry duty. Cutting his losses before it turned into a full two weeks, John tossed the controller down on the table and conceded, “I give! No more. I’m going to read for a while. G’night, Cam.”

John got up and started towards his room, but stopped when Cam said, “Come to bed, John.” He looked over to see Cam holding a hand out in invitation. When John crossed the room and slipped his hand into Cameron’s, his _panor'eten_ repeated with meaning, “Come to bed. I want you.”

He gave quick nod and then surprised Cam by dropping his hand and surging forward, taking Cam’s face in his hands and kissing him. Just as it had in Kansas, the heat flared up between them. How could John let this go? How could he say no to making this more by moving to the next level and completing the bond? What difference was more time to think about this going to make? He had known deep down what his answer would be as soon as Cam had made the proposal in the Memorial Garden. His lips slanted over Cam’s, demanding, taking. He plundered his _panor'eten's_ mouth ruthlessly, sliding his tongue in, stroking the roof of Cam’s mouth with teasing little strokes. Tilting his head, he moved in closer, sucking on Cameron’s tongue when he was able to get his mouth in the proper position to do so.

“I want…” John panted as he pulled back, looking into Cam’s eyes. “More. I want to stay. Don’t send me away. I don’t want to go.”

~*~

His heart soared at the quiet entreaty by his _keri_. “Never. I’d never send you away,” Cameron whispered, trailing kisses over John’s eyelids and down his nose. “You’re sure?”

John nodded and said the formal words he had not said, neither of them had needed to say when there were thousands of words on a contract that said it for them, “I wish to bond with you, Cameron Mitchell, _keri_ to _panor_ , from this day forward.”

There were traditional responses to that. Cam could arrogantly claim his _keri_ , establish his dominance and make his demands, as was usually done when this ceremony was done in public, or he could speak from his heart. He repeated John’s pledge back to him. “As I wish to bond with you, John Sheppard, _panor_ to _keri_ , from this day forward, will you have me?”

“Yes.” John smiled brightly and Cam knew that he had chosen correctly, adding the last question. John was still gripping his cheeks tightly; he had not released his hold since glomming onto him earlier. Cam doubted he realized he was doing it. He didn’t mind. He knew that the large majority of _panor_ were put off by any display of dominance by their _keri_ , but Cam didn’t want John to be anything other than what he was. He never had.

John leaned in and kissed him again, sweetly this time, sealing their vows. Then he dropped his hands and stepped back. “I hate to throw a bucket of ice water on the romance, Cam, but this isn’t going any further unless we go see CB.”

“I know. I’m sure the spark will still be there when we get back.”

Cam laughed as John grabbed his hand and started dragging him towards the door. “Let’s go. You know this is gonna make his night? He’s the Scots version of a meddling yenta.”

“I do aim to please,” Cameron replied, allowing himself to be led, and wondering just what was going to happen once the inhibitors were gone.

It was after normal duty hours when they got to the infirmary, which made John huff out an impatient breath as they had to go searching for Beckett. Cam laughed as his _keri_ dragged him along through the infirmary towards the medical staff quarters off a back corridor and banged on Beckett’s door. “CB? Open up.”

Beckett blinked in surprise as he opened the door, dressed in sweats, a book dangling from his fingers. “What are you lot on about?”

“Time to play cupid.”

Taking pity on the confused doctor, Cam said, “We’re going through with the bond, Doc, we need you to drop the inhibitors. Now.”

“You’re sure, both of you?”

“We’re sure. We’re not going to wait it out. We both want it.” Cam dropped a hand on John’s shoulder and squeezed as his _keri_ nodded eagerly in agreement.

“Well then,” Carson tossed his book aside and clapped his palms together, leading them into the infirmary where he began to gather supplies. “That will certainly make things a mite easier on you. You should know that I canna give you the contraception inhibitors for about a month, the other drugs have to be completely out of both of your systems first and the Main Phase of the bonding complete. So be careful, unless you’re looking to be making more wee babies for me to look after.”

John blushed and gave a short nod of understanding. Cameron reached down and took his hand. “No worries, Doc. I think John stocked up before he left Earth.” John blushed even deeper, looking up at the ceiling.

“That wasn’t for… that’s for later, for black market trading.”

“Uh huh. Well, your black market condoms are gonna come in handy now, aren’t they?”

Cam decided that John was cute when he was embarrassed. Saying so in a sing-song voice, he leaned over and tweaked John’s nose, which earned him a punch in the stomach.

The doctor rolled his eyes and tossed John a warning glare to behave himself. The night nurse came over and gave Mitchell and Sheppard a curious glance, but said nothing as she followed Carson and assisted him with setting things up before disappearing to wherever it was the night nurse hovered while awaiting patients, perhaps up in the rafters somewhere, hanging upside down.

“Up you go, Cameron,” Carson patted the exam table and Mitchell hopped up and held out his arm.

The doctor raised an eyebrow, smirked and made a ‘roll over’ motion with his finger as he held up a large syringe filled with an amber fluid. Cam huffed, undid his belt and flipped over facedown on the table. Carson made quick work of tugging down his pants, wiping a cool alcohol pad over his exposed butt cheek and injecting the needle.

“Hold still lad, there’s quite a few cc’s of fluid to this, as you saw.”

It burned. Cam wanted to wriggle away. “Is it supposed to burn like that, Doc?”

“Sorry lad, it has a few strong drugs in the cocktail, I’m afraid. The discomfort will subside in a few minutes.” The needle was withdrawn and another cool alcohol pad wiped over the inflamed area.

Stay there a minute or two. I’ve two more injections,” Beckett told him.

Cam groaned and turned his head, resting his cheek on his folded arms and looking at John, sitting on the edge of a chair nearby. “Ow. It burns.”

“Sorry,” John replied. He smiled mischievously and leaned over. “I saw your tushie.”

Unimpressed, Cam replied, “You’ve seen my ass before.”

“No, I haven’t.”

Cam blinked and retorted, “Sure you did, in Kansas.”

“Uh uh. There were no naked tushies in Kansas,” John shook his head back and forth seriously.

Carson came back with another syringe and pointedly ignored the stupidity of the conversation, though he certainly heard every word.

Cam mumbled, “This is a ridiculous and pointless discussion, I refuse to continue.”

“It distracted you from the burning, didn’t it?”

“What am I, five?” Cam protested and earned a cheesy grin from his _keri_.

Beckett rolled his eyes again and jabbed Cameron with another needle. The fluid didn’t sting quite as badly this time, and Cam bit down on any complaint he might have made, not wishing to provoke any more diversionary commentary on his posterior.

“Sorry, lad, this one is a might bit worse than the others. I have to inject it near your spine. Hold very still.”

“Wonderful,” Cam droned, and winced when the pinch came. Moments later, he yowled in pain as every nerve in his body seemed to catch fire simultaneously. Panting through the extreme discomfort, he blinked away tears as wave after wave of burning heat washed over him. He writhed on the bed, rolling onto his side, trying to get away from the pain. John’s hands were on him, caressing his cheeks, his neck, and his arms. As another spasm hit him, he heard John’s voice whispering near his ear that it was okay, he was going to be fine, that it was going to be over soon.

He must have blacked out. He opened his eyes to see John’s face, eyes wide with concern, inches from his own. “You okay?”

“What the hell was that?”

“Nerve stuff. How do you feel now? CB said it wouldn’t hurt long.”

“Okay, I guess. Tingly all over, but that might just be you being so close. Kiss?”

John leaned in and pressed his lips to Cam’s, sucking lightly as he pulled away and called, “He’s feeling better, CB!”

When Carson came over, Cam gave him a dirty look. “You could have warned me.”

“I did, I told you it was going to be worse.”

“You know what I meant, you mean little man.”

“Yes, well. Now you know what to expect, and hopefully you won’t go berserker on me in a few minutes when John has to have the same course of anti-inhibitors.”

Oh, crap on a stick. Cam had not thought of that.

“CB, you're being mean, tell him what you told me.”

“I did you first so that you wouldn’t go mad on John’s account. I’m hoping you’ll be calm for a while longer, while your system resets and the anti-inhibitors begin to take effect. You probably don’t have high enough levels of PSG endorphins at the moment to cause a fuss when your _keri_ starts whimpering. You’re also leaving the room.”

“I said I was sorry about the last time, I didn’t really mean to kill you.”

“Well, better safe than sorry. You are a very scary man, Commodore.”

“Uh uh,” John shook his head in denial and thumped his chest with his thumb. “I’m scary.”

Carson waved a hand dismissively at John, “No you’re not. Now, switch places. Cameron, get out.”

“I’m not leaving.” Cam stood beside the bed as John slid onto it, and crossed his arms, stubbornly refusing to budge.

“I had a feeling you would say that. Ronon?”

“On it,” Ronon grumbled from behind Mitchell, pointedly drawing his blaster and checking the charge.

John waggled a finger at Ronon and warned, “Don’t you dare shoot him. Unless it is absolutely necessary.”

“Right. Yeah. Sure,” Ronon agreed half-heartedly.

“I hate you people,” Mitchell grumbled.

With a chuckle, John undid his pants and flipped over on the bed. “No oogling my ass, Big Guy!”

“Not my type,” When Cam looked over at the giant, he shrugged and added, “No boobies.”

Cam wasn’t certain if it was the drugs in his system, the preparation for what was coming, or Ronon’s intimidating presence with his blaster out and ready, but Cam was able to remain quite calm as John took the shots.

His _keri_ was stoic through the first one and made not a murmur of complaint, though Cam knew how much it burned. Cam crouched down so that he was on eye level with John and whispered, “Hey.”

“What?”

“I see your tushie.”

Carson groaned, “Oh now don’t start that again!”

“Is he allowed to oogle, Sheppard, or you want me to shoot him?”

“No shooting! You shoot him, I don’t get sex.”

“And it’s all about the sex.” Cam winked at Ronon, who snorted and tossed his dreadlocks.

When Beckett administered the final shot, he whispered an apology to John. “I’m sorry lad; it’s going to be worse for you. The KSG anti-inhibitor has a higher PH level.”

Mitchell gave Sheppard credit; he clenched his teeth and held off a lot longer than Cam had. But eventually he let out a strangled cry, his hand flailing out for Cameron’s and clenching it in a bone crushing grip as the waves of heat took him. Cam moved as close as he could to the bed as John began to squirm, trying to get away from the inescapable pain.

Ronon barked, “Can’t you do something for him? Is this normal?”

“Aye, this is normal. It willna last long, he can ride it out, he’s a tough one,” Beckett replied calmly, monitoring John’s pulse and respiration.

Unable to watch John writhing on the bed any longer, Cam moved in and put his hands under John’s shoulders, lifting him from the sweat soaked mattress. “Shhh, _keri_ , shhh, come here, come here.” He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled John to him, wrapping his arms around John’s back and holding him as the shaking starting.

“Aye, lad, that’s the way. That’s the way.” Carson patted Mitchell’s shoulder in approval, waving to Ronon to put his weapon away as it wouldn’t be necessary.

“I’m not feeling very frisky,” John said dryly as they entered their quarters two hours later, cleared by medical and pronounced inhibitor free and safe to continue the bonding process whenever they were ready. He kicked off his boots, letting them land with a clatter over near the door, Cam smirked and did the same.

“Yeah, I hear ya. Shower?”

“A shower would be good. You want to go first?”

Cam sauntered over to John and put his hands on his hips, tugging him up against his body and purring out, “I dunno, I was kinda looking forward to having someone to get that spot on my back I can never reach.”

“Oh you were, were you?”

“Yeah. Interested?”

“I could be. Is this going to be a mutually beneficial arrangement?”

Cam grinned and leaned in, sucking John’s lower lip between his teeth and biting gently before releasing it and whispering, “Oh definitely. Don’t forget, I know massage therapy.”

At the memory of that, John shivered against him, imagining wet soapy hands touching him the way Cam had done that night weeks ago, when his _panor'eten_ had soothed him into sleep. He leaned his cheek against Cam’s, rested there for a few moments, closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

He stepped back a little and smiled. “You know, maybe I’m feeling a little more frisky than I thought.” The KSG hormones, without the inhibitors to change his reactions, were making him hyperaware of his _panor'eten_ , of his proximity, his scent.

Using his grip on John’s hips, Cam turned him towards the bathroom and nudged him along. Once there, he reached for the zipper of John’s jacket and tugged it down. “I want slow,” Cam breathed, circling John as he ran his hands up his _keri's_ chest and slid them to grasp the shoulders of the jacket and slide the sleeves down John’s arms. “Can we do slow?” He put his lips to the back of John’s neck, mouthing sucking kisses there in the open stretch of skin between the spot where John’s hairline ended and the collar of his t-shirt. He circled back around, his hands never leaving John’s body, and dropped the jacket carelessly to the floor.

His eyes were closed and his head tipped to one side as Cam licked and nuzzled at his neck. John gasped when he hit a sensitive spot beneath his ear. “Slow is good. You go as slowly as you like, Cameron,” he moaned out the three syllables of Cam’s name in a long drawn out sigh.

~*~

The way John said his name sent tingles down Cam’s spine and drew an answering moan from him.

Cam tangled his fists in the front of John’s t-shirt and pulled it up and over his head, tossing it aside. He bent to trail kisses across the revealed collarbone and down John’s chest, tasting him as he went to his knees. Once there, he undid the heavy buckle of John’s service belt, pulling the leather through the loops and tossing it away with a clatter as it hit the tile floor. The snaps clicked loudly when Cam undid them with two fingers and then drew the tab of the zipper down, opening the front of John’s pants and slowly working them down over the slim hips to the floor.

Fingers spread widely, Cam ran his hands down the outside of John’s legs and then back up again, caressing and kneading slightly as he shifted back to sit on his heels. Lightly, Cam clasped his hands around John’s left ankle and lifted, freed his foot from the pants leg and pulled the sock off. He repeated the move with the other foot, then tossed socks and pants aside. He went up on his knees again as he reached for the waistband of John’s boxers and slowly tugged them down. John obediently stepped out of them when Cam tapped his calves.

Cameron sat back on his heels again and just looked up at John, who shifted self-consciously under the intense scrutiny. “So beautiful,” Cam breathed. And he was, from the top of his spiky hair to the tips of his toes, John Sheppard was the most beautiful person Cam could ever remember being in the same room with. He wanted to touch, but if he did what he really wanted to do, he suspected this was all going to be over really quickly, and hyperactive bonding hormones or no, they were not teenagers, their recovery time was not what it might have been if they had been doing this twenty years earlier.

“Come up here.” John held a hand out and tugged Cam up when he took it. He twisted his hand around to link their fingers. With his free hand, he cupped the side of Cam’s head and drew him in, catching his lips and licking his way along until Cam opened his mouth and let him in. His fingers caressed the shell of Cam’s ear, making him shiver lightly. They had a short battle of tongues, each trying to suck the other in until John won, smirking against Cam’s mouth as his _panor’eten_ whimpered mildly under the onslaught. John kissed very aggressively. Very seriously and very aggressively.

John released his mouth, kissing across Cam’s cheek to his ear and he said, “You’re wearing too many clothes. This is unfair, either you take some off or I’m going to have to put some back on.”

“After all the trouble I just went to?”

Cam felt John’s hands at his back, sliding up under his t-shirt, which was lifted up until he stepped back and let John pull it off. With a smile, John touched his fingertips to Cam’s temples, drew him down slightly and planted a kiss on the top of his head.

“What was that for?” Cam asked.

“Just because. I’m sorta stupidly happy right now. Hey, stop - my job.” John slapped Cam’s hands away from his belt when he reached to undo it and did the task himself, shoving at Cam’s pants. He slid down Cam’s body, running his hands along the muscles of his _panor'eten's_ ribs. He roughly tugged pants and shorts down; taking far less care than Cam had done at the same task, then stood and looked over at the shower stall, or shower room that took up almost half of the tiled bathroom.

The water came on behind them, John using his connection with Atlantis to prod the city into doing his bidding. Splaying one hand out on Cam’s chest, he gave him a light push backwards, shoving him under the spray of hot water. Blinded by the jets, Cam reached for John and tugged him in; there was more than enough room in the oversized Ancient shower room for both of them.

With a sigh of contentment, John ducked his head under the water, closed his eyes and let the warmth wash over him. Cam was amused as John looked over at him, his hair plastered down to his head, the first time Cam had seen the wild spikes not standing straight up at odd angles. Knowing that if they intended to get any washing done, it had to happen soon, Cam soaped up a washcloth and quickly scrubbed it over himself before handing it to John and maneuvering his _keri_ around so that he could rinse the soap off.

Done with the washcloth, and apparently finished with the cleansing part of the evening, Sheppard backed him up against the tile wall; Cam gave a little yip of surprise as the comparatively chilled tiles hit his naked shoulder blades. Lathering his hands with some gel soap John went back to his knees; his hands were shaking as he slid them up Cam’s damp legs, to rest them on his hips. He drew small circles in the suds with his thumbs over the indents where Cam’s hip bones were.

One hand anchoring Cam in place, holding him still against the wall, John brought his other hand over and grasped the fullness of Cam’s cock, eliciting a loud groan. When his _keri_ began to stroke him, his hand slick with the soap, his knees nearly buckled and he had to throw his hands out to catch himself on John’s shoulders. John slowly stroked him for a while before letting the warm water wash over him, rinsing him of suds.

When John’s head dipped, and his lips touched the head of Cam’s cock, Cam bucked upwards and swore fervently, “Oh, shit, damn, fuck. John, you don’t have to…”

“I want to; do you want me to stop?” John smirked up at him, slowly jerking his hand up along Cam’s length and then back down, his fingers pressing and massaging the velvety shifting skin over the steel hardness beneath.

Cam shook his head vehemently in denial and John grunted in satisfaction and put his mouth on him again. His _keri_ had done this before, either that or John Sheppard was a natural-born champion cocksucker. That was a conversation for later, when Cameron could think about… words… and stuff. He keened softly as John brought him up and then slowly backed off, going from hard sucking to light licking. He pulled off occasionally to nuzzle his nose against Cam’s balls, his tongue darting out teasingly before he would lick a broad stripe along a stretch of sensitive skin. Cameron admitted to himself regretfully that he was not going to last very long with this level of lascivious attention from his _keri_. He could feel the all over tingling in his body, the PSG hormones kicking in, the actual chemical bonding process beginning as John’s saliva, active with KSG, seeped into his skin.

He had to keep his hands on John’s shoulders, fearing his legs were not going to hold him. John’s free hand was roving over Cam’s stomach, stroking wide circles as he bobbed his head over Cam’s cock. Reaching for the soap, Cam got a handful and then caught John’s hand. He pulled it from his stomach and slicked it heavily with a wad of gel before drawing it around and placing it on his ass. He nudged John’s hand down towards the crack of his ass, sighing with satisfaction as John got the point and slicked him up, playing there with his free hand, dipping his fingertips teasingly into Cam’s ass as he sucked.

Mitchell clenched his haunches as he reached his peak. He roughly grabbed a hank of John’s hair, intending to pull him off, but John stubbornly refused to be moved and so he came in John’s mouth, providing John’s KSG with plenty of raw _panor_ genetic material to play with now. Coughing mildly, John choked down most of the come, but some spilled down his chin. Blinking away tears, John looked up at him and Cam reached down to tenderly wipe his face. Twisting around to get off his knees and plopping with a small splash onto his ass on the shower floor, John braced his hands on Cam’s hips in an attempt to use him as leverage to get up, but Cam stopped him, planting his hands on Sheppard’s shoulders, this time with the intent of holding him in place. “Stay there.”

Cam straddled John’s thighs and slowly sank to his knees, kissing John when their faces were on level again, tasting his own essence in his _keri's_ mouth. With satisfaction, Cam noted that John’s lips were swollen and his eyes were glazed. There was no doubt in his mind that this bonding was going to take, probably on this first encounter. Sitting on John’s thighs, Cam reached between their bodies and grasped John’s dick in his hand. They were of a comparable size, so touching John was not too different than touching himself. He stroked John in the same way he liked to be touched, there would be plenty of time for them to learn what the other liked, how to please each other. For now, he did what he knew, what he enjoyed. John’s hands were roving all over his body now, up and down his back and sides, always coming back to rest on his hips.

The hot water streaming down across him, John’s head was tilted back against the tile wall, the line of his throat exposed. Cam took a moment to admire his _keri_ , to admit that he was so beautiful like this, loose and relaxed and yet at the same time tense with unreleased sexual need. Cam shifted forward, moving so that John’s cock was where he wanted it to be and pressed downward, slowly taking John into his body, hoping belatedly that the soap and water were going to be enough lubrication for this maneuver.

~*~

He had been enjoying the feel of his _panor'eten's_ hand on his penis, had sagged back against the wall, content to let Cam bring him where he wanted to go. John’s eyes flew open wide as he realized what Cam was doing. Too startled to protest, he clenched his hands on Cam’s hips as he slowly impaled himself on John’s cock. This was entirely unexpected. Entirely. Panor dominance drove them to be the ones taking, the ones possessing during the bonding as well as during subsequent matings. John had fully expected find himself bent over and fucked sometime very soon, his lot as a _keri_.

Instead, he had a lapful of Mitchell, who was now staring at him with wide, bright blue eyes, holding himself perfectly still as John filled his ass. Unsure as to what was happening, and how he should be reacting, John asked, “What do I do? Do you want me to move?”

“If you want to. Give me a few seconds to adjust; I haven’t done anything like this in years.”

This was completely outside of John’s experience. Playmates, as a rule, did not engage in full penetration during their sex play. In a small voice filled with wonder, John admitted, “I haven’t done this.”

“Never?” Cam asked, smiling lustfully when John blushed and shook his head. “You’ll pick it up.” He leaned in and kissed John, licking his lips and sucking lightly as he began to move slowly up, coming off John’s cock. Cam sucked in a wet breath through his teeth, wincing. “Can you reach the soap? Need a little more slick.”

John reached up and fumbled his hand around until he hit the plastic bottle, grabbing it and offering it to Cam, who tossed his head. His whole body was shaking with the tension of holding himself still. “Can you?”

Unsteadily, John tipped the little bottle over into his palm and got his hand soapy. He reached down to spread as much over his cock as he could, and touched his fingers to Cam’s hole, swirling some there as well. Cam nodded, “Better.”

It was a new experience, watching Cam as he rode up and down on his cock, the wincing and painful faces giving way to a rapturous smile as he adjusted to John’s width and moved more easily. Heat swept over John, his whole body tingling, like pins and needles, quite likely the KSG activating, binding him to Cameron, and linking them on a genetic level. Instinctively, John began to shift his hips up, meeting Cam on the downward bounce. He thrust up into his _panor'eten's_ body, holding his hips, lifting him and bringing him back down as he got used to the rhythm Cam was setting.

Mitchell was babbling a stream of unintelligible phrases as he fucked himself on John’s body. He leaned forward, burying his face against the juncture of Sheppard’s neck and shoulder as he whimpered and writhed, rasping out John’s name. John grunted in exertion as he shoved upwards, his hands on Cam’s ass, pulling him down to meet the thrust and then pushing him up again.

“I’m done, I’m done,” he grunted against Cam’s hair as he spilled into him, jerking up with a few last frantic thrusts. Exhausted and spent, Cam slumped against him, limp like a rag doll, breathing heavily. His own breath unsteady, John withdrew his softening cock, sliding Cam back so that he could wriggle around and get onto his knees. He grabbed the discarded wet washcloth and the bottle of gel lying on the shower floor and wiped himself and Cameron, cleaning the sticky spillage of semen off them both.

Dopily, Cam stood when John tugged him up and allowed himself to be led out of the shower. He slowly toweled himself off when John handed the soft cotton to him. Concerned at Mitchell’s lethargy, John asked, “Are you okay?”

“Uh huh, m’ just all worn out now.”

Taking his _panor'eten_ at his word, John prodded at him until he stumbled to the bedroom and flopped facedown on the bed, burying his face in his pillow. John ordered Atlantis to close the balcony doors that Cameron insisted on leaving open all the time. It wasn’t a cold night so John decided to skip clothes and joined Cam on the bed. He tugged the sheet and light blanket around them both and rolled onto his side to stare at Cam.

He reached a hand out, stroking it through Cam’s hair, fingering the short strands. “You didn’t have to do that, Cameron,” John mumbled, unable to go to sleep without acknowledging what had just happened between them.

“Mfff aannn oo.”

“Was that English?”

Cam lifted his face off the pillow and said sleepily, “I wanted to. Go to sleep, we’ll talk tomorrow. If you feel really weird and non- _keri_ about it, I’ll fuck you properly tomorrow.”

“Okay. Good night,” John smiled and threw one arm and one leg over Cameron. Content for the first time in his life, he promptly fell asleep.


	11. Something Like Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Apparent deaths of major characters. But keep reading, this is not a death!fic.

Being a bonded _keri_ was nothing like Sheppard had thought it would be. If he had known that there was someone like Cameron out there, that all _panor_ were not the stereotypical domineering partners he had been schooled to fear, Sheppard might not have bucked the system quite so hard.

As he lounged back against Cam on the sofa a few days after their bonding had been firmly established, he mentioned that. The hand that was idly rubbing his scalp stilled and Mitchell hugged him tightly. “I’m glad you did. Saved you all for me.”

“Yeah.” John let himself be petted for a few minutes more, reached his daily quota for cuddling, and then squirmed away to perch on the end of the sofa. “Did you do your do-hickey for the databurst?”

“Is that the official SGO term, do-hickey?”

“The video letter thing.”

“I did one for Momma, but I’m thinking to redo it. Unless you want to just add on to it for me?”

“You want me to do a video letter to your mother?”

Cameron shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

“What would I say?”

“I dunno, it’s your letter.”

“To your mother.”

“She’s yours too, now, you’re family, you’re House Mitchell, John Sheppard-Mitchell.”

Huh. John sat back against the couch cushions and gave that some thought. “Okay.”

John had chosen to record the message to Cam’s mother… to Momma… in his favorite puddlejumper. He set the camera tripod behind the pilot’s seat and spun his seat around to face the back of the jumper. The jumper lights adjusted to the level he wanted with a thought and he pressed the remote start and gave the camera a sheepish grin.

“Hi Momma. Cam suggested I record this to tack onto his letter. He was being sorta mysterious and secretive about what he said in his, but he seemed to think you would get a kick out of me doing this, so here I am.” He lifted his shoulders in a helpless shrug.

“We had a few rough weeks, we lost some people. My friend Rodney lost his _keri_ , Katie. That was, that is, really hard. Things like this make us question whether we should be bringing family members out here at all, whether we should be making exceptions to the law for mission essential personnel or not.”

John paused the recording and sat back in the seat to think. He was silent for quite a while before he started again. “I’m not good with talking, which is why the thought of doing these video letters freaks me out. I feel better imagining I’m talking to you though, ‘cause my brother Dave would just be laughing his head off at me. And he wonders why he gets short little emails from me. Cam insisted on sending Dave’s contact information to you, so you could invite him to the next big family shindig. If you do, I should warn you, he’s a little hot tempered, but he means well. His _panor'eten_ Janelle is a real sweetheart, you’d like her. She bakes, when she’s not sending murderers to jail; she’s a prosecutor for the District of Baltimore.”

“Our Mom died a few years ago. We were lucky to have her for as long as we did, she was sick for a long time. It was a stupid car accident that took her though, ironic, right? Anyway, Cam reminded me that you’re my Momma too now. He told me that he gave you the rundown on our arrangement when we visited you. You can forget about that. We tossed the contract a few days ago. The bonding went well, no side effects, all water tight and sealed with a kiss.” He smiled at the camera. “We’re both feeling good. A hell of a lot better than we were on the inhibitors, that’s for sure. I can think clearly again, and I’m getting much more work done, which pleases Lorne.”

He paused the recording again. He hated making conversation out of thin air. This was torture. “Lorne, Evan, is the one that got us together. He’s a good friend, one of my best friends. We met on my first SGO mission, he saved my butt, took a bullet for me, and he’s being doing so ever since, in one form or another. Sometimes it can be hard having a friend in your chain of command; Lorne’s our SOO, the Senior Operations Officer.” A thought occurred to John and he grinned, Cam had promised not to hack into the file and watch this, so he wouldn’t see it. “Evan can be a bit of a prankster. He tried to convince Cam that we have an invisible officer doing his paperwork. The mission roster lists Paul Davis as Cam’s XO. Cam has started to believe he isn’t a real person, since he’s never seen him. He’s real; Cam just hasn’t been introduced to him yet. The entire Operations staff is in on it, it has proven to be extremely good for morale. I have to say, it is getting harder and harder to keep Davis from running into Cam. I’ve lost count of how many times Davis has ducked into my office to avoid Cameron.” He chuckled at the memory of Davis crouched down behind John’s desk two days earlier, stuck there while Cameron sat on the front of the desk to discuss a mission report AG-5 had filed.

“I’m out of stuff to say, I’ve been sitting here in the jumper for about two hours and I think I’m making the maintenance people nervous. I hope you and the family are all doing well. Don’t worry too much about us, we have each other Momma.”

~*~

“Zelenka, if we can get the EoAP running, we won’t have these power issues the next time the Wraith come knocking! You concentrate on this, I’ll deal with the…” Rodney slapped a sheaf of papers in his hand and spun back towards the whiteboard and smacked it once for good measure. He spotted John leaning in the doorway of the lab and pointed to him. “Sheppard, get your ass in here and back me up on this, you’ve got the math to see this clearly.”

Taking advantage of Rodney’s distraction, Radek discretely snuck out of the lab as John wandered in, reading the whiteboard, running the calculations through. It was good to see Rodney almost back to normal, working and berating the lab people after so many weeks of being laid low by grief. John was waiting for the first lab monkey to come to his office in tears after being the target of a McKay rant before he downgraded his worry for his friend. Loathe to burst his Rodney’s bubble, John ventured cautiously, “I don’t see how this has a practical application for the weapon, McKay.”

“Oh, this? Has nothing to do with the EoAP. This is my sister’s theorem for her dissertation, I promised to look it over and send it back in the next databurst.”

“In that case, I don’t see anything wrong on first glance. Are you making progress on the EoAP?”

Rodney straddled a rolling stool and wheeled over to a computer, waggling his fingers at the screen. “We’ve hit the same roadblock Doctor Carter and the crew over at Area 51 did. We’re missing a key element, and have no way of integrating the power from the eyes into the firing chamber. We got a huge data file from Sam in the last burst with tons of Gou’ald reference materials, but the anthropologists can only read so fast.”

“Go light a fire under Corrigan’s ass if you want the EoAP to be a priority. He’s having a love affair with the Ancient mainframe and doesn’t have time to spare for my lowly projects.”

“He’s searching for ZPMs Rodney, you want ZPMs. You love ZPMs. ZPMs make you happy.” John’s tone was wheedling, he made a motion with his hand, as if he was hypnotizing Rodney.

“Yes, fine, whatever. Did you have a purpose to being here, besides being a nudge? I have a lot of important things to do, besides entertaining you.”

It was good to have the old Rodney coming back. “Cameron wants to have a poker night Wednesday, you in?”

“I’m shocked; he’s actually willing to share you with the rest of us?”

“Aw, c’mon Rodney, it hasn’t been that bad, I’ve been around. We just played chess on Sunday, no Cameron in sight, just you and me and the last bag of Cheetos.”

Rodney tipped his head and looked at John. “No, I suppose it hasn’t been entirely bad, this whole flyboy bonding thing. You look more at ease these days than I ever remember you being. Everything is really okay with you guys now?”

“Yup, all good. You gonna play cards? Ronon claims the marines are no challenge anymore and he needs to up his game, he wants to teach us a variant he adapted from a Satedean game.”

“I’m in. Finally, something I have a chance of beating him at, I happen to be a very good poker player.”

~*~

The months flew by, daily running of the city and their mission directives keeping everyone busy.

They made several new trade agreements with people friendly to the Athosians, Teyla becoming a diplomatic force in Pegasus with the Lanteans backing. She made them new allies, found them several bolt holes and a new Alpha Site that they could use in case of another Wraith attack and the need for evacuation of the Expedition ever arose.

On a visit to the planet Hoff, the Lanteans found a strong potential ally in their fight with the Wraith. Since meeting them, Carson had been making frequent trips there to study a virus the Hoffans were developing the use as a weapon against the Wraith. When they found out Carson’s specialty was genetics, the Hoffans had tried pressuring Carson to fast-track their program, but he had dug in his heels and refused to accept the possible risks of skipping steps in the research and testing of anything they came up with. A fellow researcher that Becket met there, named Perna, had made several trips to Atlantis, provoking quite a few raised eyebrows as Beckett’s friends observed the pair. It appeared the Scot was quite smitten with the pretty scientist, judging by the way his eyes followed her everywhere.

Their hunt for a replacement ZPM went on. They found several depleted ones in facilities long ago abandoned by the Ancients or destroyed by the Wraith, but no working crystals. Work continued slowly on adapting the EoAP to use for the city’s protection.

John Sheppard was sleeping through the night, every night, for the first time since he was twelve years old and the nightmares had started.

Life on Atlantis was good.

~*~

“The Lanteans are approaching the ruins now, Team Four, are you in position?”

“Affirmative, Team Four is set.”

“Understood. Do not engage; remain in concealment until further orders. You know what you are watching for; keep your eyes open, all teams.”

“Team Six, understood.”

“Team Three, reporting three Lanteans with the native, two more at the Gate.”

“Team One, in position. Equipment up and running. Decoys prepped and ready for final manipulation.”

The trap was set; all that was needed was for the final piece to fall into place. Months of preparation would finally bear fruit. The operation leader waited, listening to the reports from the various teams, listening for the one report that mattered.

~*~

The fat, obnoxious, officious city councilwoman gestured broadly over the toppled stone columns and piles of rock that were scattered in the field they stood overlooking. “And so, Overseer Mitchell of Atlantis, I welcome you to the sacred site of our Ancestors. Please, come forward and bask in the grace of those who have gone before, in this place of peace and reflection. Come, come, let us commune!”

“I’m going to kill you Lorne,” Cameron whispered as he skirted around the major and followed the waddling woman down the path.

“Me? Why?” Lorne hissed in exasperation, as he jogged to catch up, he thought everyone had gotten over this fixation with murdering him, now that John and Cam were happily bonded and cohabitating.

“Time Swirl, the lost episodes. They came over in the last databurst and McKay uploaded them on the server this week, and I finally got John to agree to give up a Sunday and watch them, all of them. Naked, in bed - sex and sci-fi, Lorne. I hadda give up sex and sci-fi to come on this stupid hike, because you said so.”

“Don’t blame me. The Frizlack High Council refuses to deal with underlings. I’m just your lackey; I’m inherently not good enough to commune with the Ancestors. I’m just a light switch; point me where I need to go.”

Cameron frowned and looked up at the sky, which was a uniform shade of ugly gray. He could be home in bed with his _keri_ , instead he was tromping through damp grass to go to Sunday meeting at someone else’s church.

They reached the only building on the premises and Cam recognized the design of a partially intact Ancient control panel beside the closed door. “Corrigan, go take a gander at that, see if you can make out the jibber-jabber.”

Scowling mildly at Cam, Corrigan walked over and peered at the broken engraving set beside the door. “Typical rhetoric. Worthy, worthy, none shall pass, test, not worthy, abandon hope. Looks fine to me.”

“Please, touch the artifact; prove your intent and worthiness to enter the temple,” their guide said, gesturing with a flourish of sleeves and jangling bangle bracelets to the crystal door array.

“Only one of us needs to pass the test is that correct…” he fumbled for her name, “Mooba?” At her nod, Mitchell tossed his head towards the door and said, “Major Lorne, please do the honors.” Of the three of them, Lorne was the strong ATA positive. Predictably, the panel lit up like a Christmas tree when he put his hand on it, flashing happily as the door slid open.

~*~

“We have a go. Target is positive. All teams converge on point.”

“Team Two, acknowledged, enacting plan Koyla One.”

Acustus Koyla smiled. He had them now, Atlantis would not only pay for their treachery, they would serve the Genii in the process.

~*~

Impatiently, John paced in the Control Room; Mitchell’s team was ten minutes overdue for their check in. That was not like Lorne; AG-2 had a perfect field record, they were never overdue. John was considering assembling AG-1 and going in guns blazing when the ring began to spin.

“Receiving an SGO ID code, I read Doctor Corrigan,” Chuck called from his spot by the central console.

Relieved, John ordered, “Lower the shield.” He jogged over to the stairs and was halfway down when Corrigan staggered through the gate, alone. A marine on guard caught him as he stumbled and would have fallen. John’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach as the Gate shut down behind the doctor; no other travelers were coming through. Taking in Corrigan’s ragged appearance and the blood on his forehead, John had a premonition that things were about to go from Worrisome to Very Bad.

“Corrigan, Al, report, what happened? Where is the rest of your team?” Sheppard demanded in a firm but gentle voice, going over and grasping the doctor’s elbow.

“I’m not sure. I woke up in the woods, alone. The others were not answering their radios. I found one of the guards we left by the Gate dead beside the trail. His neck was broken. Lieutenant Markham was missing. I came back here, to get help,” Al gave his report in a shaky voice.

John handed him over to the medic that had appeared at their sides. “Good man, you did the right thing. Let us know if you remember anything else. Go with the medic now, you’ve got some knot on your head.” He turned towards the Control Room, barking orders as he went up the stairs, “I want AG-4 and AG-8 with double backups on the floor in three minutes! Tell medical I want a team here ready in the Gate Room to go in if they’re needed. Chuck, call Ronon and McKay, and tell Cadman she’s with AG-1. Davis, send someone to my locker to get my gear and bring it here. Grodin, get that snotty little Frizlack person on the horn, I want to know where my people are.”

It was drizzling when John stepped through the event horizon to Frizlack, a few minutes after AG-8 had called back with the all clear, but he didn’t notice, he was too busy trying to keep procedures straight in his head while staving off the panic that threatened to overwhelm him.

Lieutenant Stackhouse, the team leader of AG-4, strode over to him with a worried frown on his face, which he dropped quickly, schooling his features as he took in John’s dark look. “Sir, we haven’t found any trace of AG-2 yet, other than Sergeant Algen’s body, a few hundred yards into the tree line. There’s no trace of Markham.”

“Keep searching, Lieutenant. I want a perimeter established. McKay, picking up anything on the scanner?”

“Negative, but that doesn’t really mean anything; they could be underground, something could be blocking their sub-q trackers.” Rodney was walking towards the trees, running scans with the device in his hands. Ronon was close at his side, blaster out and eyes alert for any danger.

Lieutenant Stackhouse planted himself at John’s side, apparently his self-appointed body guard for this op. Since that freed Ronon to look after Rodney, John did not put up a fuss and allowed the hovering Lieutenant the space.

“Cadman, check over the DHD while we wait for the locals to get here, see if anyone has tampered with it, we don’t want a repeat of PV6-226.”

“Aye sir.” Cadman slung her rifle over her shoulder and pulled out her tool bag and set to work over the control panel.

There was a rustling on the path leading to the Gate and seventeen weapons came up and pointed in that direction, which caused the nervous Frizlack guide to wet himself when he came into the clearing with his companions. “Please, Sub Commander Sheppard, have your people lower their weapons,” he called fearfully. John cut the air with a slice of his hand, and half the weapons were lowered, the other half shifted to the side, ready to come up and around in a moment.

“You are very frightening people,” the man said shakily.

Impatient for any sort of bullshit, John snapped, “Where is our delegation?”

“Please, accompany me, Sub Commander. I shall take you directly to their last known location.”

“AG-4, with me. Cadman, finish that later. AG-8, stay on the Gate, I want the marines spread out on the perimeter.”

There was a chorus of, “Yes, sir!”

Three Frizlack people led them along a winding path to a field filled with rubble. “The Temple of the Ancestors, Sub Commander, your Overseer was supposed to be going there.”

John’s radio buzzed in his ear. “Sir, we found Markham, he’s in pretty bad shape, he’s been worked over. We called the medical team through; Doctor Beckett is on the way.”

“Keep me informed.” John looked back over his shoulder at Stackhouse, “They found Markham, alive, but badly injured. Go, I’ll be fine, see to Jason.” John knew the two Lieutenants were involved; he nodded at Stackhouse’s grateful look at the dismissal, and hoped he wasn’t sending the man off to sit a death watch over his lover.

The panel beside the door lit up as John passed his hand over it; he ducked his head and went through the doorway into the darkness of the old temple, the rest of his team at his back. “Something reeks!” Rodney complained, waving a hand in front of his nose. He had the scanner out, but shook his head when John looked over at him with a questioning glance. “Wait, wait! I’ve got blips. Two. Straight ahead, some kind of antechamber to the right.”

Moving down the narrow hallway, Ronon’s nostrils flared. “Stop.” He suddenly reached over and grasped a handful of John’s jacket, bunching up the shoulder and dragging him over to the wall. He pushed Sheppard against the stone and hissed, “You stay here! Cadman, keep him here.”

The petite redhead nodded and gave John an apologetic shrug. Like most of the other marines, she had her standing orders from Lorne, and as she did not have any desire to be peeling Pegasus not-potatoes for the next six months, she set herself protectively in front of Sheppard.

John huffed out an impatient breath and crossed his arms; he had long ago stopped arguing with the body guards Lorne had sicced on him.

“McKay!” Ronon bellowed from the room beyond them, his voice echoing in the enclosed corridor.

“Yeah, coming, damn, what is that smell? It smells familiar.” Rodney edged his way past Cadman and followed Ronon.

John heard his teammates speaking in low voices and the feeling of dread that had been with him since Doctor Corrigan had tripped through the Gate flared up into certainty that something horrible was happening.

There was a shuffling and Rodney appeared in the doorway, looking at John with a combination of pity and pain that John recognized immediately. “No,” John whispered, shoving at Cadman to get past her. He rushed to the door, pushing Rodney’s hands away, barely hearing his friend’s warning voice as he saw the charred remains of two human forms on the floor inside the chamber.

“John - stop, wait!” Rodney tried to catch him but he slithered past.

Ronon was crouched between the bodies, one of his ubiquitous knives in his hand as he used the tip to lift a chain from around the neck of the corpse closest to the door. The breath froze in John’s throat as he saw the distinctive shape of SGO dog tags dangling from the chain, heard the familiar clink of aluminum.

“No!” John cried, stumbling forward and falling to his knees, reaching out and snatching the tags from Ronon to flip them over and read the embossed name.

“Oh, God, no. Lorne. Oh, my God, Evan,” he mumbled, watching as Ronon dug the chain from the neck of the other corpse, read the tags and looked up at John with an expression of sympathy.

“Mitchell. I’m sorry, Sheppard.”

“No! It’s not them. It’s not them!” John insisted, as if denying it would make it so, as if he could order it not to be if he said it fiercely enough. He hugged his arms around his stomach and rocked in place as he stared in horror at the supposed corpses of his _panor'eten_ and his friend.

A hand dropped onto his shoulder, Rodney crouched beside him and held up the scanner, running it across the bodies. “I’m sorry, John. I am so, so, sorry. Their sub-q trackers are here, I just ran a preliminary DNA scan.”

Horrified, John stared into Rodney’s shimmering blue eyes. “No. Not like this. Please, not like this.”

His _panor'eten_ was dead? Just like that? He’d left that morning bitching up a storm because he was missing that stupid show he wanted to watch, and now he was gone?

Distantly, as if through a tunnel, John heard McKay on his radio as he ordered the team at the Gate to send the medical team to their location. His team took charge, letting John have a short time to fall apart before he had to put himself back together. He heard Rodney ranting at the Frizlacks that got in the way as the Lanteans came in.

John knelt beside Lorne’s body, unable to move from where he was, his eyes glued to the charred remnants of the men he had known, of two men that were family to him. He stared at the corpse of the man he had loved more than anyone else. He stayed there, frozen in place as Doctor Biro came in and the medical team carefully removed the bodies.

“Sheppard? Time to go.” Ronon knelt down on one knee and shook John’s shoulder when he didn’t respond.

“Cameron’s gone?” John whispered, looking up into the dark eyes in front of him, and Ronon nodded. His time was up; he had to be in charge again.

Sheppard climbed to his feet, his expression dangerous. “I want to know why. I want to know who or what did this. I want a team in here, I want this place scoured. Someone is going to answer for this, someone is going to pay.”

~*~

“Sir? C’mon, answer me. Mitchell, answer me.”

Cam waved a hand in annoyance at the buzzing near his ear. “Go ‘way.”

“That’s it, Mitchell, be pissed off at me all you want, just wake the hell up!”

He opened his eyes and saw a bloody face in front of his. He shied back instinctively before he recognized Lorne. “Evan? What happened? You’re bleeding.”

“So are you. You need to sit up; I think you have a concussion.”

His head did hurt. “What happened to my head?”

“One of the Genii hit it with a shovel. Sorry, sir.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because he did it when I wouldn’t do what they asked me to. Do you remember being captured?”

Damn, his head hurt like hell. “No.”

“Maybe that’s better. We’ve been here for three weeks, maybe a little longer; it’s hard to tell down here.”

“The Genii?”

“Yeah, nasty bastard named Koyla. They found a cache of Ancient tech and their scientists needed an ATA positive to activate it, so they came hunting for one of us. You don’t remember any of this, do you?”

Cam took the cup of water Lorne pressed into his shaking hand. “No.”

“Why’d they take me? I’m not a strong ATA positive.”

With a sheepish look, Lorne said, “To keep me in line, make me cooperate. They’ve been beating on you any time I didn’t move fast enough to suit them. I’m sorry, sir.”

Mitchell waved away the apology; it was hardly Lorne’s fault. “We’ll get out of this. Atlantis will find us.”

“No sir, I don’t think they will.” Evan reached down and lifted Cam’s arm, turning it to show him a poorly healed sore on his forearm and the matching one on his own. “They cut out our sub-q trackers. And they took our dog tags.”

“They’ll find us. John won’t give up.”

Evan didn’t have the heart to remind Mitchell of Koyla’s bragging taunts of how they had fooled the Lanteans with charred remains, how there was no search because they were believed dead. The Commodore would likely remember, or be reminded by Koyla or his men soon enough.

~*~

Rodney tapped on John’s office door and hovered nervously, unsure what the reaction would be this time. There was always a 50/50 shot these days of getting Reasonable Sheppard or Unreasonable Sheppard. It looked like he was in luck; he got a neutral stare when John looked up at him. What he’d give to see that eyebrow go up again, to see a smarmy smirk, to hear that brash laugh, to see something of the friend he missed so terribly in this stranger, this single-minded soldier sitting behind the desk. “Cadman and I expanded the search, she had this idea that the unique radiation signature the Genii give off might leave a trail, we might be able to find a nest of them, take them out.”

“I approve. She has whatever time she needs to work on the project. Anything else?” John’s eyes were cool as he looked up at him, dark, expressionless. To Rodney’s knowledge, other than the short time in the chamber when Sheppard had knelt beside the bodies in silent shock, he had not taken any length of time to grieve; he had hardened himself and thrown himself into work. He had refused to go to the Memorial Garden for the services. He would not say any words in memoriam of his fallen _panor'eten_ or his friend. The only person he gave any time to was David Parrish, grown even more silent and withdrawn than John since Evan’s death.

“Sheppard, it’s been over three months, you’re driving yourself too hard with this vengeance kick.”

“The Genii have to die,” John stated simply, tossing a datapad to the side of the desk and then looking back at Rodney. “Are you going on the mission with Corrigan to investigate that Brotherhood legend of a ZPM?”

Rodney slid into the chair in front of John’s desk. He was going to try again, John had him worried, and he wouldn’t listen to anyone else, wouldn’t let anyone else even mention his health or Cameron without flying into a rage, so it had to be him. “Yeah. We’re all set to go, Stackhouse is coming and Cadman wants to pick my brain, so she volunteered too. You’re too thin, Sheppard, I can see your cheekbones, you have to eat, you have to sleep. The bags under your eyes have bags of their own.”

“Thank you for your assessment and concern. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. Come to the mess with me. John, you were there for me when Katie died. Let me be there for you, please. You need to let yourself grieve.”

John slouched back against his chair and gave McKay a stare. “I can’t go there, Rodney. I can’t think about him. I have to focus on keeping this city running, on keeping us all alive.”

McKay sighed; this was a circular argument that would go nowhere. John would collapse, someone would call Carson, Carson would sedate John and keep him in the infirmary for a day or two, force feed him, get him back on his feet and then the cycle would begin again. They had little choice, they couldn’t take John permanently off duty; the loss of both skilled administrative officers had left it up to Major Davis and John to run the city. “I’ll be in touch if Corrigan and I find anything about this Brotherhood and the legendary ZPM.”

Three days later, John walked through the Gate into SGO, blinking at the florescent lights. It had been over a year since the Atlantis Expedition had left, he had not expected to be here this soon, but the discovery of a fully charged ZPM had allowed this trip. He set down the case that held the original ZPM that Atlantis had been running on, one which held enough power to open the Gate and return him, as well as re-supply the Expedition, should SGO make the decision to do so. They might keep him here and send someone else. It didn’t matter; he had a promise to keep, he was here to do that. He patted the lump in his pocket.

The overhead intercom clicked and a voice said, “Welcome back, Sub Commander Sheppard. We would have expected that the Overseer of the expedition would come in to make the report.”

John looked up into the face of Marshal Jack O’Neill behind the Plexiglas shield and said, “That would be me, sir.”

With a shake of his head, O’Neill swore, “Fuck, not again.”

Silently, John stared out the window of the Kiowa as the corn fields blurred by beneath the chopper. He had a pilot assigned to him this trip, he was not in control. He was in his dress uniform, right down to the pointed cap in his lap, removed so he could wear the protective flight helmet. He had a small box clenched in his hands; his thumb ran over the surface, in the same spot as always, a spot worn now from the repetitive action over the last three months. The chopper banked to the left and set down lightly beside a red barn. Taking off his helmet and dropping it between the seats, John waited until the rotors stopped completely before opening the hatch and stepping down. He dropped his backpack onto the ground, and gently lowered the bag that contained the urn of Cameron’s ashes beside it. Slipping his non-regulation sunglasses into his pocket, he put his uniform hat on, adjusting it properly. This was, first and foremost, an official Visit of Notification.

The back door of the farmhouse had flown open and two women ran across the yard towards him.

“Cameron?" Moving forward, she saw that the build was wrong to be Cam. John Sheppard-Mitchell, is that you? Oh, my God, it is you!” Wendy Mitchell exclaimed as she came close enough to see him more clearly.

And then she noticed the dress uniform, and her steps faltered. She drew close enough to see the desolation in his eyes. One hand went to her mouth, the other clenched over her stomach as she began to shake her head in denial.

“No. Oh, no, no, no.”

“I…” John stammered out why he had come. “I… I promised you, before I left… I promised you I’d bring him home.”

It was the nightmare of every military mother, the news that her child wasn’t coming back. Her son was gone. Cameron’s Aunt Didi wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulder and hugged her.

John stepped forward and held out the small box in his hand. “His tags. I thought you should have them.”

Accepting the box, Wendy stepped up and put one hand to his cheek, searching his face and frowning at what she saw through the tears she was openly crying. “Oh, John. You come inside, you stay tonight, your pilot can come too if he wants to. But you stay, you need to stay.”

John was going to protest, but she took his hand insistently. Collecting his bags, he waved the pilot off; he had compassionate leave, the pilot would return to collect him the day after tomorrow. Wendy Mitchell led him back to the house, forced him to sit at the kitchen table and then tearfully excused herself. John could hear her sobbing in another room, grieving in private for Cameron.

Aunt Didi puttered around the kitchen, tears streaming down her face. She set a teacup and a plate of oatmeal cookies in front of him. “You, eat. You were skinny before. I can see your bones now, boy.”

The cookie was like sawdust in his mouth, but he chewed obediently. Aunt Didi showed him up to Cameron’s room and left him there. He took off his uniform, folded it neatly over the desk chair and pulled on a pair of jeans that had been in his backpack. He crossed to the closet, opened the door, and tugged a well-worn hooded Air Services sweatshirt off a hanger and dragged it over his head. It was two sizes too large, Cameron’s shoulders were broader - had been - broader than John’s and he liked to wear his off-duty clothes loose... had liked to. The sleeves hung past his fingertips. When John raised the neck to his nose and inhaled deeply, it smelled of the fabric softener Wendy used, a smell John had learned to associate with Cameron, since he insisted on using the same brand, even in Atlantis. He pulled the hood up and walked over to the bed and dropped down onto it. Wrapping his arms around the pillow that he clutched to his stomach, he curled over on his side and went to sleep, unassisted by medication for the first time in three months.

He woke when the side of the bed dipped down. Opening his eyes, he saw it was daylight. Wendy gave him a wavering smile, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. “You’ve been out for nearly twenty eight hours, John. You should come down and eat something. Cole is here, he wants to see you. I called your brother Dave too; he’ll be here in a few hours. I sent the others away, you don’t need a crowd.”

Grateful for the consideration, John sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, John,” Wendy opened her arms and he fell against her, pressing his face to her middle and sobbing, letting go of all the grief he had been carrying for the last three months, the pain he had been shoving aside just so he could function.

“They took him from me. I couldn’t do anything, I got there and he was already dead,” John wailed brokenly. “I tried to find them, I tried, but I couldn’t. Momma, they took him from me.”

Wendy held him and rocked him and cried with him. She didn’t judge him, she didn’t rush him or blame him, she just grieved with him. This was what he had needed to do, to come home.

When he finally stumbled down the stairs, his face freshly shaven, his eyes were as red as Momma’s. Cameron’s brother Cole hugged him and sat with him while he sat in the gently swaying porch swing and stared out over the fields. He had a plate of food in his lap; potatoes and steak and broccoli, and he was eating obediently, picking at it with small bites. Momma had come out and joined them, sitting on the steps, being quiet but present, which John appreciated.

Cole waited until John finished eating and set the plate aside before he asked, “How did it happen?”

“They were shot with some kind of an energy weapon; their bodies were burnt beyond recognition. We identified them from their tags and sub-q transmitters and a little bit of DNA we were able to scrape up.”

“Them? Cameron didn’t die alone?”

John shook his head, “No, Cole, he didn’t. Major Lorne was with him.”

“Oh, Evan Lorne? He was your friend,” Wendy said sympathetically. John nodded and steadfastly refused to start crying again. Over the next hour, in fits and starts, John slowly told them about the Genii and some of what he had done to find Cam and Evan’s killers and then found himself talking about Cameron and the six months they had together after they bonded, remembering the good things. Sharing the good memories with Cameron's family.

He was smiling lightly over a story he had been recounting when a car pulled up in front of the house. The passenger door flew open and his brother David tumbled out, running towards him. John met him at the stairs, hugging him tightly as Dave grabbed him. “Damn it, John. I’m so damned sorry.”

And that was all David said, that was all he could say.

~*~

When John returned to SGO two days later, his mind was clear and his heart was no longer a shattered thing in his chest. He was still grieving for Cameron, but he was no longer quite as broken. Momma Mitchell had insisted that Cam would be very angry with John for the way he had let himself get run down. She had scolded him and made him promise, in respect for Cameron’s memory he would take care of himself.

John knocked on Marshall O’Neill’s door. “Reporting as ordered, sir.”

“Sit down. I really don’t know what to do with you, Sheppard, honestly. You are a major pain in my ass. The Council is pushing me to replace you.” O’Neill leveled a look at him and John nodded in acknowledgement, he knew he was a thorn in the Marshall’s side. “Well, I say the hell with that. Go grab your gear, you’re going back.”

O’Neill shuffled some papers on his desk. “Harriman scrambled together all the supplies he could get his devious little hands on to restock the Expedition, I believe we might have quite a job explaining that empty warehouse in Nevada. I’m sending you another platoon of marines, as well as some new personnel. It seems to me you need a crime scene analyst, someone that can help you out with your search for Commodore Mitchell’s killers; I’ve pulled someone in to help with that, a civilian, I’m trusting you to keep him safe. You’re also getting a psychiatrist, a Doctor Kate Heightmeyer. You’re her first patient, Sheppard, and if she reports back negatively in the next databurst, I will have your ass tossed back through the Gate. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” They were letting him go back; John felt a smile crack over his face. He had a home in Kansas, he knew that now, but his real place was in Atlantis, he still had work to do there.

O’Neill tossed a small box across the desk. “I’m tired of justifying you to the Council. Don’t make me sorry for this, Sheppard.”

Opening the box, John saw the bar insignia of a full Commander, he’d been promoted, against all the odds. When he looked up, O’Neill pointed a finger at him in warning.

“Don’t make me regret promoting a _keri_ to flag rank, I do not want that as my epitaph. Now, get. Go collect a new uniform and scoot before the EUG figures out you’re back on home soil. And take care of my civilians!”

~*~

John followed the last supply cart through the wormhole and the Gate swooshed shut behind him. The guard closest to the Gate spotted him, took in the uniform change, smiled and bellowed, “Attention! Commander on deck!”

The young analyst the Marshal had foisted on them walked through the Gate at his side. When John had been introduced to him back at Cheyenne Mountain, his stomach had fallen to his feet. Take care of O’Neill’s civilians? “Major Davis!” John called, and the dark haired man appeared at the top of the stairs. “This is Mister Charlie O’Neill, he’s an expert on crime scene analysis, please provide him with all the data and records we have collected so far with regards to the Genii as well as the files on Mitchell and Lorne’s murders. Charlie, I leave you to the Major, he’ll see that you get settled.”

“Yes, sir, Commander.” Davis whisked Jack O’Neill’s son away. Sheppard made a mental note to assign his best body guards to the kid, this was his first trip through the Gate; he had no off world experience. Ordinarily, he might be a liability, but he had been assured that O’Neill was a genius at his job, freelancing for every major metropolitan police force in the world. And now he was here to find Cam and Evan’s killers.

“You look better,” Ronon grumbled, pushed away from the wall where he had been lounging and sauntered over.

John nodded. “Cam’s mother attempted to fatten me up.”

Eyeing John’s bulging backpack hopefully, he asked, “Did she send cookies?”

With a small smile, John slung his backpack from his shoulder and opened the top. He withdrew a plastic container, shook it and tossed it to Ronon. “She said Cameron wrote in his letters that he’d been bragging about her oatmeal cookies to you. She sent you a batch, no raisins; I told her you didn’t like raisins. And this is for Torra,” he pulled out a soft pink and purple baby blanket and passed that over as well. “She and Aunt Didi knitted it.”

Ronon grinned and tucked both items under his arm. “Teyla will like this. See ya later, glad they let you come back.”

“Me too, Big Guy.”

~*~

There was a knock on John’s door and he looked up to see McKay. “Safe to come in?”

“Yeah. C’mon in Rodney. Sorry I’ve been shitty lately.”

“You were kinda entitled. Ronon shared the cookies. I wish they had raisins - then they would have been perfection, little drops of heaven, actually.”

John smiled, and Rodney sagged down into the chair before the desk with relief to see it, though Ronon had assured him that John was much more like himself. “I hear we got saddled with Marshal O’Neill’s kid.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say saddled.”

“What is he, fifteen?”

“Nineteen. He’s really good; I’ve been reading over his records. People have only positive things to say about him, he’s apparently very intuitive,” John patted the personnel file he had been handed on his way out of SGO. “You know about being young and talented, McKay, maybe you could cut him some slack?”

Properly chastised, Rodney gave a one shouldered shrug. “Talk to me John, I’ve missed you.”

And John surprised him by asking him a question that was not related to a mission or Genii or killing Genii or Wraith or killing Wraith or improving the city. “How long did it take for you to stop feeling the effects of the bond? When did the link start to fade?”

“Huh? Immediately, it hurt like hell when Katie died. I thought my head was going to explode. The pain from that subsided after a few days. Wait - John, are you saying you still feel the bond?”

“Well, yeah,” John shrugged.

McKay sat bolt upright in his chair and hit his radio. “Doctor Parrish, come in.” McKay waited a moment until his radio clicked in response - Parrish was even more unlikely to talk to him as Sheppard had been most days before he had left for Earth. He demanded over the comm, “Answer me honestly Parrish, do you still feel the bond with Lorne? Can you still sense your _panor'eten_?” He paused, listening for an answer and when Parrish didn’t answer he demanded, “This is important, don’t blow me off here.”

There was a heavy sigh and then Parrish replied, “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say something to someone? I’ll be down later; don’t wander away from the greenhouse, go play with some begonias or something.”

He tapped the line closed and glared and waggled a finger at John. “You do know you are an idiot sometimes?”

“Huh? Now what did I do? You said talk to you, I was attempting conversation. I just asked a question.”

Impatiently, McKay blew out a breath, “You should have asked it months ago, all this time wasted! If your _panor'eten_ is dead, the bond would have faded, the bond is quasi-telepathic, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I didn’t forget, I got headaches for a month at the start because of it.”

“Don’t you see? You're so dense sometimes!”

“See what? Where are you going with this, Rodney?”

“If the bond is still there, the other half of the pair is still there, John. You and Parrish both still feel the link. Mitchell and Lorne have to be alive out there. We’ve been treating this like a murder case when it has been a kidnapping all along.”

John sat back in his chair and stared at Rodney, and a blossom of something like hope flared to life in his chest.


	12. Links and Luck

“You do realize if he dies, the other one will stop. With no hold over him, he will not care if he lives or dies. The repairs to the Lantean Gateship are nearly completed; we need the other one to operate it.” Sora tapped her foot and stared at Koyla as he raised the whip to strike the fallen Lantean again. “I am sure Cowen will agree that this man is no good to us dead, Commander.”

Reminded of his duty, Koyla snarled and threw down the whip and stalked angrily from the room. Waiting until the Commander was gone; Sora collected the water bucket from the corner and walked over to the stubborn Lantean. She knew he was stubborn because he was still alive, after six months of constant beatings and deprivations that turned Sora’s stomach, the man was still alive. Sora’s father might have taught her the arts of war, but her mother had taught her compassion. She dipped the sponge in the water and held it to his lips. “Here. Cam, your companion calls you, right? Here Cam, you need water, suck on this slowly.”

His hand shaking, he gripped the sponge and pressed it to his lips. His back was a mess; Koyla’s lash had torn it open as he dared the man to scream. Sora thought Koyla needed the man to scream. But he never did; Sora had heard from other soldiers and the guards that he never screamed, and that infuriated Koyla. She had come today, as she had the last three days, to see for herself what the others whispered about throughout the base. The brutality, pointless brutality, made her ill. These were not the ideals her father had raised her to. Taking the sponge from his hand, she dipped it in the lukewarm water again and held it to his mouth. “Again. Drink.”

“Why are you doing this?” he asked in a weak voice as he handed the drained sponge to her. She had never heard him speak and had wondered if he was even still capable. She dropped the wet sponge into the bucket with a splash, pulled a vial from her pocket and poured the contents into the water. She withdrew the sponge and began to lightly pat at the wounds on his back. He sucked his breath in through his teeth, bucked away from the touch, but did not cry out.

“A rabid animal would not be treated this way. I cannot stand by and watch this any longer.” She bathed his wounds, watching the agent she had added to the water turn the open lash marks purple. The antiseptic was activated.

“That stings,” he mumbled, his head falling forward, the only complaint she had heard him make in the three days she had been here observing.

She pressed the sponge harder, soaking more of the cleansing agent into his wounds. “Because it is working. I spoke the truth, with you dead; there is no reason for your companion to go on. I do this to save many lives, not just one. Not all Genii believe as Cowen and Koyla do. Not everyone is willing to hide beneath the ground and die because we breathe poisoned air. If I help you, Cam of Lantea, will you agree to help me? Will you stop the Butcher of Lantea from killing Genii?”

He began to laugh, choking and spitting out a chunk of gore as he did so. “Hardly in a position to do that, am I?”

“If you were?”

Cam gave a hopeless chuckle; he was so far gone into madness, he might as well agree. “Sure, sure, yeah, you get my man out of here, I’ll help you.”

“I shall get you both out, as you need to return to Lantea and convince your Overseer to help us.”

At that, Cam began to laugh so hard he coughed and choked again, spitting blood onto the filthy floor near his bare feet. All this time, and the stupid Genii bastards hadn’t known who he was.

~*~

Knocking on the door of Commander Sheppard’s office, Charlie waited until Major Davis waved through the glass at him before going in.

“Mister O’Neill, you have something?” Commander Sheppard drawled and sat back in his chair, flicking a stylus between his fingers.

He waggled the folder in his hand. “I think I have a few starting points. I went back through the footage from three years ago, when the Genii Koyla took Elizabeth Weir and fed her to that Wraith and sent the video footage here. I extrapolated the commonalities between the site used and all other instances when Lanteans have encountered the Genii. Overlaying that with the location of known trading partners of the Genii, and accessible Gates, I think I have five possible planets where this Koyla is likely to have set up a base of operations, if the sources are correct and Koyla is the man responsible.”

Sheppard looked around the office at Davis, McKay, Stackhouse and the big scary guy, all staring at Charlie. Only the Athosian woman, Teyla, seemed unimpressed with O’Neill. “I told you he was good. Stacks, divide the list up between the Gate Teams, one to a planet. Teyla, I want the teams of Athosian cover traders to go in first, spread the photos of Lorne and Mitchell around, see what they can dig up before our people go in visibly and wave their guns around and stir things up. McKay, are you up to taking charge of AG-1?”

“Yes. Glad to see you’re remaining sensible and staying here.”

“Sensible nothing, I want anyone with any information dragged back through the Gate to me so I can interrogate them personally. I can’t be everywhere at once, but I want these people to know that the Commander of Atlantis, the Butcher of Lantea, is very, very unhappy with the Genii right now.”

"There is very little doubt that the word is out," McKay snorted and crossed his arms to stare at John.

“Putting a price on Koyla’s head was a risky move, John,” Teyla said mildly.

“It might bring him out of hiding.” Where John could kill him, he wanted to do it himself, but if it had to be one of his people that ultimately took the slimeball out, John would live with that, he wasn’t that crazed with vengeance. That would make him… well… Koyla, wouldn’t it?

“Permission to accompany the Gate Teams, Commander?” Charlie asked as the other people filed out of the office to the tasks they had been given.

Sheppard shook his head and picked up a datapad. “Categorically denied. Before you give me an argument, may I remind you that the men we are dealing with snatched two highly trained field officers and managed to cover it up?”

“Figured that would be the answer, but it didn’t hurt to ask,” Charlie shrugged.

“No, it didn’t. I appreciate what you’ve done, everything you’re doing here, O’Neill. Keep up the good work. When Koyla and the Genii aren’t such a problem, maybe I’ll sic you on the Wraith; see what you can do to help me with that particularly nasty problem.”

“I’m an analyst, not a fumigator. I’ll talk to you later, Commander.”

“Just Sheppard is fine please. Honestly? I keep looking around for someone else when people call me Commander.”

~*~

John walked into the Memorial Garden, intent on finding Parrish. He had not mentioned what was going on with the investigation to the botanist; he wanted to have more to offer than a bunch of maybes before getting his friend’s hopes up too far. John wasn’t even letting himself hope too much, despite Rodney’s assurances that Cam and Evan had to be alive. There wasn’t enough evidence in their database about separated _keri_ and _panor_ , it happened too rarely.

He found him digging listlessly in a flower bed, seeds spread on a piece of cloth on the ground beside him.

“David, may I join you?”

“Sure,” David mumbled and pushed at the loose soil with a tiny three pronged rake.

John slid to the ground, folding his legs up under him. “Remember when Rodney was asking you about whether you still felt the bond with Evan or not?”

“Yeah.” Poke, poke, poke. Rodney had warned him that David was like this, he had refused to answer any more questions when McKay had tried to talk with him earlier.

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up, but Evan might still be alive. If the bond hasn’t faded, it is likely because the other partner is still within range. We both feel it, Parrish, Rodney says it has to be so.”

“We argued the morning of the mission. He was getting worse; the symptoms of the inhibitors were making him sick. And I yelled at him. He was doing it for me and I yelled at him.”

Worried, John reached over and lifted David’s chin up. “David, did you hear what I said? Evan is still out there somewhere. We’re trying to find him.”

“No, John. You’re trying to be nice. Captain Cadman came and told me that Evan got all burned up by the Genii and wasn’t coming home anymore. I went and saw the body. Evan is gone.” David patted John’s leg and turned back to his digging.

“I’m not just being nice David.”

“I yelled at him. I didn’t appreciate what I had, and God took him. This is my punishment, you shouldn’t be trying to make me feel better, John. It goes against God’s will, really, I deserve this punishment.”

John stared at his friend and realized that he had failed him badly, he had been so wrapped up in his own grief that he had let David wallow and withdraw and get broken. He’d failed Evan. He scrubbed a hand over his face and watched David putter with the seeds. He stood up slowly and walked out of hearing range and tapped his radio. “Sheppard to Doctor Heightmeyer.”

It took a few moments for the civilian doctor to answer, longer than one of his military would have taken. “Yes, Commander?”

“If you are not in the middle of something, could you come to the Memorial Garden, now?”

“Certainly. How do I find my way?”

“Ask the marine stationed at the top of the Gate Room stairs to escort you, on my orders.” The Gate Room could do with one less Guard for a few minutes. “Tell him to bring you just past Weir’s tree.”

The blonde doctor appeared a few minutes later with her escort, John thanked the guard, dismissed him and took her elbow, drawing her over to where they could see David, but he could not hear them. “That’s David Parrish. I thought he was coping the same way I was, being quiet and not talking to anyone. I never pushed him to talk to me about Evan. I wanted to be left alone, I thought he did too. I thought I understood. I fucked up, Doctor, excuse the language, but I really, really fucked up.”

“Commander, I am certain that you were coping as best you could,” her voice was understanding as she put a warm hand on his forearm.

“This isn’t about me. He’s broken, Doctor, he’s scary kinds of broken and I only just realized it. I came down here to tell him that Lorne probably isn’t dead, to fill him in on what we’re doing to find him. But he’s all stuck in his head, he doesn’t believe me.”

“Evan Lorne?”

“His _panor'eten_. He and Commodore Mitchell are probably not dead as we thought.”

She took a deep breath and touched his arm again. “Commander, losing your _panor'eten_ was a very traumatic experience. It is not unusual to feel alone and abandoned, and to seek out someone to share that burden with. Sometimes, we build up illusions to comfort ourselves, and in extreme cases, sometimes we try to push those illusions off on those around us.”

John stared down at her with wide eyes, trying to follow her words. When he realized what she was doing, he shook his head and waved his hands. “No, no, no. You’re not understanding. This isn’t about me.”

“Commander, it should be, grief is a personal thing; it is about each of us.”

“Argh,” he tugged at his hair in frustration. “Doctor. My _panor'eten_ is not dead.”

She patted his arm again. “I am sure that is true on some level. He will always be with you. Here,” she touched her fingers to the spot over his heart.

He reached up and clasped her fingers tightly in his hand. “Doctor. Kate, may I call you Kate? Yes? Good. I am not the one losing my mind here. I called you here to help David, he is the one having delusions. I am the one attempting to make him see the truth.”

She patted his hand. If she touched him again, he was going to throttle her. “Commander Sheppard, you will do him harm if you try to draw him into your fantasies.”

“Mmmpphhh!” He threw his hands in the air. “The bond has not dissolved. I still feel Cameron, here in my head,” John whapped the side of his head with his open palm. “I know he is out there, he is still alive. We have analyzed the evidence again, and Charlie O’Neill believes the evidence was all faked for our benefit so they could steal our people without us coming after them.”

“Why would they want to steal our people?” she looked at him skeptically.

“Lorne is an ATA positive, so is Cam, to a much lesser extent. The Genii are obsessed with Ancient technology, with beating the Wraith. They needed someone with the gene to make their stuff work. Yesterday, Parrish admitted he senses the bond with Evan too. They’re out there, Doctor Heightmeyer, and I am not going to stop looking for them. Now I need to convince David of that.”

She stroked her chin, regarding him.

“Oh for the love of… if you don’t believe me, ask Doctor McKay, no don't ask Rodney, he’s not sane enough. Ask Paul Davis.”

She shook her head and then looked over at David.

“Look, fine, check up on my story later. But now, just please go over there with me and talk with David. He needs your help, the kind of help Marshall O’Neill sent you here to give us. Please.”

“Of course. Of course,” she followed him over to where Parrish was slowly dropping seeds into holes one by one.

“Hey, David. This is Kate Heightmeyer, she came over a few days ago from Earth.”

The botanist glanced over, stared at her shoes and then looked away. “Those heels are impractical in Pegasus. Pretty and quite fashionable, but entirely impractical.”

“I packed quickly, I hadn’t anticipated coming so far from home. I’ll have to wear my running shoes around the city. This is a lovely place. Do you mind if I sit for a while?”

David didn’t answer yes or no, so she sat. John edged back a few steps, not certain if he should stay or not. Heightmeyer stopped him from retreating any further with a motion of her hand.

“Commander Sheppard was telling me that he brought you some encouraging news about your _panor'eten_ today.”

“Sub Commander.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Sub Commander. They won’t let a _keri_ advance past Sub Commander in the military, everyone knows that.”

She cleared her throat and replied, “I believe your friend has been made an exception to that rule, Marshal O’Neill promoted him when he went back to Earth a few days ago.”

“We’re not going back to Earth for another one year, eleven months and eight days,” David said succinctly. That answered the question of whether David was aware of the time that had passed since Evan went missing, he was dead on about the ending date for the Expedition. But he would be, it so strongly coincided with the date he and Evan would be able to start on their family.

At a loss how to answer, Heightmeyer looked to John. He told David, “We found a ZPM; we can go to Earth when we need to. I had to leave our old ZPM there, and it is pretty much drained, I used it up getting back here. There will only be messages home until we find another ZPM.”

Interested now since John was challenging what he knew, David tilted his head. “You went home?”

“I did.”

“Where did you go?”

“To Cheyenne Mountain, to report in. Then to Kansas to see Momma, then to San Francisco.”

“You saw Heather and Will. You saw Evan’s parents.”

“Yes. I went to tell them about Evan. That was before I knew they might still be alive. I’m very upset that I gave Wendy and Heather and Will the wrong information. I’m looking forward to correcting that error really soon.”

Parrish shook his head, his unkempt hair fell across his eyes, grown too long since Evan had been gone. “Evan is gone. It’s good that you told his mom and dad, that they heard it from a friend, instead of a phone call from a stranger. I yelled at Evan, you know. He was feeling sick and I yelled at him because I was mad that we have to wait. I shouldn’t have been mad at him.”

Heightmeyer rolled her hand, encouraging John to keep going, he had David talking now.

“David. Please listen to me. Evan isn’t gone, he’s just missing. We’re looking for him. He’s with Cameron.”

Parrish looked over at Heightmeyer and explained for her benefit, “Cameron died too. At least Evan wasn’t alone.”

“Doctor Parrish, how have you been sleeping?”

“Can’t sleep, the nightmares come.”

At those words, John went cold. His nightmares had returned as well.

He thought it was because Cameron no longer slept beside him to keep them at bay. But Parrish had never been prone to night terrors; this was new, though it could be grief.

Parrish was drifting, his voice soft and distant. “They’re always there, the nightmares, in the day they're not so loud. At night they’re worse.”

John went down on one knee and grabbed David’s hands, squeezing them until David looked at him, and God, his eyes were so unfocused, so blank. John had failed Evan, he’d let Evan’s love suffer alone and slip away. “What do you have nightmares about, David? Please tell me.”

“Darkness. Cold. Being hungry. Being trapped. Being angry. Being frustrated. Being trapped. Being scared. Hating them. Hating them.” David was slipping into a trancelike state as John watched.

Feelings. Not images. Feelings. Just like John’s nightmares, except John’s nightmares were also filled with a constant overlying pain. Since when did John dream in feelings? Oh, he had been so stupidly blind! It was the empathic link between him and Cameron. All along, he had it right there in front of him.

“Men hurting Cameron.” That was not a feeling. That was a specific thought. John looked over to see Kate looking just as confused as he was. “They’re taking Cameron again. He’s dying. I can’t do anything. He’s going to bleed to death. Koyla is going to kill him. He’s taking him to the pit again. Why won’t they just take me? Why? John is going to kill me, I tried, I tried to protect him, I did everything I could. I do what they want but Koyla still takes him. Koyla is going to beat him to death this time. Cam can’t take more of this. He’s sick. He’s so sick. I can’t go home without him. I can’t tell John I lost him.”

Heightmeyer had raised a hand to her mouth in horror. “He’s channeling the link; he’s actively channeling the link.”

Parrish and Lorne had five years of strength behind their bonding, they were a true bond, everyone that knew them knew this about them, but true telepathy between a bonded pair was rare. Empathy, yes, that had been fully documented, but telepathy? And now David was stuck in this nightmare with Evan, no wonder he was going a little mad.

“David. Listen to me! David, tell Evan I don’t blame him. Tell him I know he’s doing what he can. Tell Evan he needs to tell us where he is. Please David. Try. Tell Evan we’re coming.”

David began to rock in place, chanting some of what John had just said, and repeating some of what he had already said to John and Kate. He looked at John and tears began to slide down his cheeks. “You’re coming for him?”

“I swear on my mother's grave, I am coming for him. You tell him that David. You tell him to hold on.”

David’s lower lip quivered and then he began to speak more quickly, his tone more like Evan’s when the Major gave a report. “It’s so hot. The river water seeps in, but it’s dirty and hot. It smells like rotten dead meat. Even at night, it’s hot. The guards all have sunburns. The girl is trying to help. Sora, her name is Sora. She put medicine on Cam’s back. He has a fever again. Every time he gets worse. So tired. They have a jumper. They make me go there, walk a long way, make me help them, or they hurt Cam. He can’t take much more of this.”

“David, tell Evan the jumpers have beacons. Tell Evan to set the beacon.”

Parrish obediently said the words and then began to sob as he fell hard against John’s chest. John held him and rocked him and murmured nonsense at him and did what he probably should have done months ago - comforted his friend, too little, too late. He wondered how much got through. It seemed that Evan, and John truly believed he had been talking to Evan through David, had grasped what was going on and had taken the opportunity to throw him as many clues as he could in a short time. He felt a momentary surge of panic as the details began to slip from his mind.

“You’ll remember all that? Please tell me you'll remember?” John asked the doctor in a frantic voice.

She reached into her pocket and held up a small device. “I recorded everything. Standard procedure.”

“I take back all the bad thoughts I had about you. And you can touch me all you want,” John said as he stared at the recording device in her fingers.

She blinked at him. “That was your ‘outside voice,’ Commander.”

“Oops. Let’s get him to Beckett.” John stood and easily lifted Parrish to his feet. “C’mon David. Beckett’s going to want to get you on the Ancient scanner and look at that wonderful little brain of yours.”

~*~

Walking to the Gate, Sora dialed the appointed address for today. She pulled out her communications device and clicked it on when the Gate finished dialing and the puddle appeared. She clicked “on-off” in the sequence agreed upon, and received the proper answer.

“It is worse than we feared. He is completely mad. He has Lantean prisoners; he is killing one of them slowly.”

“What do you suggest we do?”

“Sabotage. Stop this here. It is your call, Ladon.”

“Do it.”

When Sora returned to the facility, she went to the holding cells where the Lanteans were being held. The one called Cam was passed out on the pallet, while the other one, Lon or Lor or something like that according to the guards, held his head in his lap.

She stood near the bars and stared. “Is he yours?”

“He’s my friend,” Lor answered.

“Koyla will kill him.”

“Yeah. Not much I can do about that anymore. He’s in a bad way. He needs serious help and rehab.”

“He promised to help me.”

Like Cam had done, Lor barked out a laugh. “Ain’t gonna happen, sweetheart. We’re Koyla fodder, walking dead. We can’t help anyone.”

“I can take him. Hide him. I’ll come back for you, once he’s safe.”

Lor’s head came up and he stared at her. “You would do that? This isn’t a trick?”

“I help you, you help me.”

She reached into her pocket and took out a key. She slipped it into the lock and cautiously went into the cell. She pulled a small device from her pocket. “Tomorrow, they will take you to the gateship. Hide this on the ship, near the controls. A charge will build and the gateship will be destroyed, their work here will be ruined. Will you do this? I will take your Cam and hide him. In the chaos, I will come back and get you and bring you to him.”

“Why?”

“Because not all Genii are animals. Not all Genii want to be hunted by the Lanteans. The Butcher of Lantea has been systematically killing Genii. We want it to stop.”

~*~

“Way to go Johnny-boy,” Evan muttered, knowing somehow that John and the Butcher had to be the same person. He smiled up at the Genii double agent, not trusting her, but if he could use her to get Cam out, he would.

After staring quietly for a few moments, he nodded and held his hand out for the device. “Agreed.”

Sora gave a low whistle and two men crept out of the shadows towards the cell. They entered, lifted Cam under his arms and dragged him out. “I will see that he has medicine and clean water and a soft bed.”

“Thank you,” Lorne said as she turned and flounced off. At her back he whispered, “Two timing Genii bitch.”

He was exhausted. The painful nightmares he had been keeping at arm’s distance had swamped him a while earlier, stronger this time than they had ever been. When he paid closer attention he realized it wasn’t just nightmares, it was David, his David, trying to tell him things. He had leaned back against the wall and let the images, feelings and words come.

They knew. Atlantis knew they weren’t dead. John was coming.

He looked at the little device. He wondered if the beacon he had to set in the jumper would broadcast before the jumper exploded. He wondered if he could get Cam to the Gate in time.

~*~

Sora sat by the window of the little inn where she had stashed the Lantean. Until the chaos that would be caused by the Gateship explosion came, she could not risk going back. Cam groaned in his sleep and tried to roll on the bed. She went to him and patted his arm and dripped some more water from a clean sponge onto his lips.

“You stay alive. You hear me? I need you alive.” She touched her fingers to his brow. He was hot. He had a fever, like Lor had said. She had no medicine left. There was an apothecary a few streets over. She had enough coin to afford a fever reducer. "I’ll be back, Cam, you sleep.”

She closed the door and walked towards the shop she had seen.

“Sora?” a voice behind her said, and she turned and came face to face with Teyla Emmagen. “I know someone that is quite eager to speak with you.” The four people with Teyla raised their weapons, Lantean rifles, and pointed them.

“I cannot go, I have a sick man to tend, I cannot leave him, he may die.”

“That is not my concern,” Teyla said, and pointed in the direction of the Gate.

Sora looked back towards the inn, seeing her plan falling to pieces around her.

They shoved her roughly through the Gate and she stumbled into a room filled with light and color. A dark haired man in a black uniform stood at the base of a large stairway, his arms crossed, glaring at her.

“I hear you know something I need to know, Sora of the Genii.”

“Who are you?”

He tilted his head and gave her a very mean little smile. “I’m the Butcher of Lantea,” he reached around to his back and came around with a very large, sharp, curved knife and tossed his chin at the guards behind Sora. She was shoved between the shoulder blades and landed hard on the floor at his feet. He braced one boot on her shoulder, pinning her to the floor as he leaned over and said with menace dripping from each word, “Now. We need to talk.”


	13. Butcher

“You cannot kill her,” Sora heard Teyla Emmagen say.

“Sure I can,” The Butcher leaned over and pressed the tip of the knife to the back of Sora’s neck. “Just a little more pressure, maybe a twist, and… one dead Genii.”

Her chin was pressed to the floor, the man’s toes against her neck holding her down. Frustrated and frightened, Sora screamed. She dared not wriggle to get away. As he had said; just a push of the knife, and she was dead. She was afraid she was going to die here. She was terrified that she would be just another Genii body tossed through the Gate to the homeworld with a knife through it. Perhaps there would not even be a note attached to the body this time, there often wasn’t a note.

“Please, please, I tried to help, I tried. We’re not all animals!” she sobbed, pleading, beyond pride now.

“I know.” The pressure on her shoulder was released; she saw the foot draw back and winced, expecting a kick to the face. Instead, fingers twisted into her long hair near the roots and she was suddenly dragged upwards. She was held dangling above the floor, nose to nose with The Butcher. His eyes, she realized, were not black as she had first thought, as one would expect of such a killer. His eyes were pale green, and not empty, not soulless, not emotionless, this close to the man’s face, she could see that. His eyes were not like Koyla’s; his eyes were not dead.

Her hands went out, flailing until she grasped his wrist near where he held her by the hair, taking some of her weight and alleviating the drag on her hair. “Please,” she whimpered in a very small voice.

“And what will you give me, Sora of Genii? What do you have to offer me that outweighs the satisfaction of erasing another useless stain off the universe?” He gave a shake of his hand, pulling at the roots of her hair so that she swung painfully, her feet kicking out at open air. She gave a yelp and clung more tightly to his wrist.

She squeaked as he shook her again when she didn’t answer quickly enough. She did not have time to think or to plan. The knife was in his other hand; she could see the shine of it when she cast her eyes down. “Lor. I know where Lor is.”

“Lor? You mean Lorne?” he demanded in a harsh guttural bark, but he didn’t shake her again.

She spoke quickly; her scalp was burning where he gripped her. “Maybe, the other one only called him by name a few times; the guards thought it was Lor.”

“And the other one?”

“Cam. Lor called him Cam. He’s sick, I was trying to help him, by the soul of my mother, I was trying to help him when the Athosians stopped me.”

The pain was suddenly gone. She found herself sprawled on the floor, looking up at the man clad all in black as he crouched with his hands on his knees and stared into her face. “I know. And that is why you lived long enough to arrive here. Now, give me a reason why I should allow this state of grace to continue, Sora.”

He knew? How did he know? What did he know? She didn’t dare to ask, did not dare anger him. “Koyla. I can get you close to Koyla.”

The grin that flashed across his face was unpleasant, his eyes now promising death. “Right answer.” He stood, turned and sheathed the knife within the leather scabbard at the base of his spine as he went up the stairs. His next words chilled her. “Bring her.”

~*~

Teyla stood at the base of the stairs, stared up and watched as Sora was dragged along behind John towards his office by two of the marines from the Gate Room guard detail. She heard John call for Davis and order him to bring paper to make a map.

Slowly, Teyla followed them up the main stairway. She was relieved that her actions this day had not resulted in the death of Sora - in the death of anyone. It appeared Sora would not be dragged to the detention level and beaten for information. So many others had not been so lucky, in the dark days since Koyla had taken Commodore Mitchell and Major Lorne. She had seen the darkness come once again into John Sheppard’s eyes, as it had when Ford died, and when the Genii had invaded Atlantis and hurt Rodney, and again when Elizabeth Weir had died at Koyla’s hands. Each time before, the darkness had faded away and her friend had returned to himself. With the loss of his _panor’eten_ , of his mate, the darkness had come and had remained; Teyla had started to fear that it should be with him for all of his days.

His soul was burdened. His heart hurt and he sought to hurt others in retaliation. He searched for those who had caused this and waged a campaign of terror upon them. This was not the same man she had grown to love as family. It burdened her heart that she could not help him. It hurt that he had turned away from her, shutting her out of his life as he fought this private war.

John had been better since returning from Earth, there had been no bodies heaved through the Ring of the Ancestors since he had visited his home. This had lightened Teyla’s burden somewhat. She had begun to hope that The Butcher was gone. But his treatment of Sora made her doubt once more.

She walked to the door of the office and saw John jab a finger at a roughly drawn map of the settlement she had just returned from; Raberjois. She heard him demand harshly that Sora mark locations upon it. With a shaking hand, the terrified Genii girl did so.

Once, before the darkness had settled upon him, Teyla would have believed that Sheppard would simply let the girl go after she had given them the information he requested. But the man her friend had become, this Butcher of Lantea, as he allowed himself to be called, this man might very well order the girl’s throat slit, might order her corpse thrown through the Gate for disposal. Teyla did not know this man well enough to begin to fathom his mind, to guess what he might do. This troubled her greatly.

She could not help but wonder what Commodore Mitchell would find, if and when he was returned to them. Would he be able to chase away this darkness, or was John truly changed forever?

~*~

John looked at the top of the girl’s head as she bent over the map. He had needed to draw on the wellspring of rage and hurt deep inside himself for the performance he had given on the stairs. He had to use all of his acting skills to be The Butcher one more time, to frighten the information he wanted out of this girl.

In the ramblings through David’s link with Evan, Evan had mentioned her by name. He had cleared her of complicity in Evan and Cam’s torture, had indicated she had been trying to help them. What John wanted to do was hug her and thank her for what she attempted to do and beg her to take him to Cam. But that wouldn’t work, the Genii were hard, they raised their people to be hard, he needed to act in a way she would understand, so that she would react in a predictable manner, and give him what he needed, quickly.

“What is that mark?” He had his arms crossed, trying to look stern as he glared at her.

Sora looked up, mild panic in her eyes. Good, he was still managing ‘scary voice.’ “That is where I left the one called Cam, an inn off the main trade road.”

“He isn’t at Koyla’s base?” Ronon asked from where he leaned against the wall, playing with one of his knives and adding to the hostile environment of the office.

“I took him out, this morning. I told you, he’s sick. He could be dead by now, his fever was high. He could not care for himself, could not get water. I was only going to be gone a short while, to get medicine. I left him alone.”

Clenching his teeth together tightly, John shook his head at Ronon’s questioning look, he would know, he would feel the bond break. Cam wasn’t dead. He needed to hold onto that belief. He looked up at Teyla, standing just inside the door and tapped his radio. “CB? Please meet Teyla in the Gate Room with a team and a stretcher; you’re a go for the retrieval mission.” He tapped the map and said, “Teyla, take Cadman and Ronon and go to this location. Bring him home.”

“I will do so.” Teyla turned and jogged down to the Gate, her husband at her heels.

Now began the waiting, the planning for the next step. Pulling his knife for effect, John sat in the chair behind the desk and kicked his boots up to rest the heels on the edge. He picked at some imaginary dirt beneath his fingernails with the tip of the knife as Sora shuffled from one foot to the other, staring at the floor. The Gate activated and the tell-tale ‘whoosh’ signaled the opening of the wormhole to Raberjois. He tamped down his hope and his fear for Cameron; he needed to hold it together a little while longer.

Spinning the knife on the tip of one finger, he asked casually, “Why did you bring my man medicine?”

“He was sick. It was something I could do, something to undo the harm Koyla has caused.”

“You want to undo Koyla’s work?”

She nodded vigorously. “Yes. That is what we are trying to do.”

“We?”

“The Separatists.”

He gave her a sardonic grin, “Oh, you’re organized now? How lovely. How’s that working out for you?”

Her downcast expression told him just how well that was going, and it actually made him give her story a bit more credence, it was more believable that they sucked at their revolutionary games. “We have had troubles.”

“I’ll bet. Cowen struck me as the type not given to sharing power or anything else.” The argument he had with Cowen and the betrayal of the Genii against Atlantis was best left in the past; this girl could do nothing about what had already been done.

“No, Butcher, he is not,” she agreed in a soft voice, not looking at him.

John glanced at his watch. He had to get Lorne off Raberjois too. That would require a more organized plan. He wondered if he could use these Separatists to do his dirty work, and spare his own people some of the danger of dealing with Koyla’s men. He was not above using Genii to kill other Genii, not anymore, not since they took Cam from him. “You must have some plan, other than just stealing a sick prisoner, some other way of upsetting Koyla’s applecart?”

She chewed her lip and then seemed to come to a decision; she raised her head and met his stare, her posture a bit more confident. “I assume that if I tell you, you will not go running to Koyla, your enemy, to undermine our work. Therefore, I am not betraying the Separatists by revealing anything about our plan to you.”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend, eh?”

“You speak a truth, Butcher.”

He rolled his hand impatiently. “So, spill, what’s the grand plan to piss off Koyla?”

“To destroy the gateship. He has had men working on repairing a gateship found on Raberjois.”

He understood the timing of this now, Koyla had needed an ATA positive; that was why this whole thing had been staged. John dropped his feet off the desk and sat up in his chair. “And once that was done?”

“There was no other plan, I was merely to sabotage the work on Raberjois, it would have brought great disfavor on Koyla.”

“Greater than the shame the ass-kicking he got here on Atlantis caused?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I do not know about that, I was not here, Butcher.”

“Okay, you can stop with The Butcher now. Call me Sheppard. How organized are these Separatists, is there a central command, a leadership I can talk to?”

~*~

His whole manner changed as he was interrogating her. As Teyla Emmagen and her consort left, his mood lightened. He no longer seemed actively interested in killing her. Sora began to hope that she might live out the day. She wondered if they would keep her in a cell, like Koyla had kept the Lanteans. She hoped she was treated better.

He asked her to call him by name, and that surprised her. Hearing that this was Sheppard, the same man that had driven the Genii from Atlantis over three years earlier, satisfied her curiosity. Ladon and the others had wondered who the Overseer of Atlantis was now, with Weir long dead. They had speculated that perhaps Sheppard was the one that had taken over, but it could never be proven.

Ladon wanted to forge an alliance with the Overseer here. Sora was certain now that she was in the city of Atlantis, the rooms fit the descriptions she had heard from the few that had survived the ill-advised assault on the city years ago under Koyla’s command. Giving The Butcher the ability to contact Radim would fulfill the other part of her mission. “I have a Gate sequence to dial; a communications device is set up to relay messages. I have not yet dialed in today; I will give you the current sequence. You should speak to Ladon Radim; he speaks for all of the Separatists.”

“Ladon Radim? And what am I going to say to him? Do I tell him I have you prisoner, will he bargain to get you back? Do I tell him where to pick up the corpse? I wonder if the Separatists have anything of value I wish to trade for.” His tone and manner did not match his words, she was less threatened now than she had been earlier.

“We wish alliance with the city of the Ancients. We wish to find a way to overthrow Cowen and those who keep our people in the ground, dying. We are a dying people, Butcher… Overseer Sheppard.”

His head snapped up and she thought she had made a mistake, misspoken, as the dangerous look came back in his eyes. “I am not the Overseer. That is someone else’s job. I’m merely keeping the seat warm.”

She sagged in disappointment, if he could not bargain…

“But I will negotiate with your Radim.” He got up from the chair and walked around the desk, taking her by the elbow and propelling her along to a Control Room.

“Peter, I want to mask our address when we dial,” He dropped her arm and turned to a thin dark-haired man that was watching her with distrust. How Sora hated that people throughout the sector looked at her, looked at everyone that was Genii, with similar disgust and misgiving; Cowen had done that to them.

“Understood, Commander,” the Lantean turned away and began to flick switches and press buttons. “Engaged, sir.”

“Chuck, scoot over, let the lady spin the wheel,” with a casual wave of his hand, Sheppard indicated that Sora should press the crystals on the panel. She looked at them and then realized that while the layout was different than the devices that stood before the gates, the symbols were the same. One by one, she depressed the keys of the address sequence she had been told would work today.

The Gate below flared into life and she looked around helplessly. She didn’t have her radio, how could she talk to Ladon? She should have thought of that.

“Looking for this?” The Butcher, and she could not stop thinking of him as that yet, shook her radio at her. She nodded and held her palm out, and he dropped it into her hand.

“I need to speak with Ladon,” she said urgently as she depressed the button on the radio.

There was a pause, and she wondered nervously if she had done the sequence wrong, or used the wrong one altogether. Then the radio crackled in her hand and she heard Radim’s voice. “You are early for your check-in, Sora.”

“I was taken from Raberjois.”

“Where are you? Who has you?” There was concern in his voice, and she smiled at that, to know he cared, that someone cared for her.

She looked across the control panel at Sheppard and said calmly, “The Butcher of Lantea.”

Sheppard held his hand out and she passed him the radio.

“This is Commander Sheppard, is this Ladon Radim?”

“It is.”

“I’m not quite certain what to do with your Sora here. On one hand, I really, really hate you Genii. But on the other hand, she presents me with an alternative to my present course of mayhem, which, by the way, is getting very expensive, and I’ve grown bored with it. I am left to wonder if she speaks the truth, which begs me to question if a Genii is even capable of telling the truth? I don’t like generalizations or stereotypes, so this once; I am willing to give this young lady the benefit of the doubt.”

“You won’t kill her? Please, Commander Sheppard, don’t kill Sora.”

Sora looked up and saw a slight smile cross Sheppard’s face. “Nah. I don’t think I will today. Maybe tomorrow. Tell ya what; you folks dial over to…”

The Butcher paused, held his hand over the radio microphone and looked to Grodin. “Safe meeting place?”

Grodin tilted his head considered and then said, “There’s always Sateda.”

“… dial Sateda. We’ll send a negotiation team to meet you in ten minutes.”

“Understood. We’ll meet your people on Sateda in ten minutes.” Ladon clicked off and Sheppard waved for the technician to close the Gate.

As soon as the Gate went dark, the ring began to spin again.

The technician called out, “We have Ronon’s ID code.”

“Let them in,” The Butcher said and ran straight for the stairs. He was standing before the Gate as the Lanteans came through with a stretcher. Sora, with two armed guards at her back, followed the others down the stairs. She was curious to see if her charge had survived or if she was going to be dead very soon at The Butcher’s hand.

She saw the man she knew only as Cam, secured tightly to the stretcher, his pale, sweat dampened face the only thing showing above the blanket he was wrapped in.

“CB?” The Butcher asked, his eyes on the sick man, as he went over to the stretcher and gripped the side of it, effectively stopping the men from moving forward.

A stocky brown haired man walked beside the stretcher, holding a bag and tube high over his head. He used his shoulder to butt The Butcher out of the way, chastising him, “Now lad, get off with ye! He’s unconscious, has a fever, and I’m not sure of what else. You’re in my way. You go and find Lorne now, I’ll see to Cameron.”

Remarkably, The Butcher yanked his hands back, holding them up in surrender as Cam was rapidly taken away. The Butcher’s eyes held some indescribable emotion as he looked over at Sora, then his face went blank again, he squared his shoulders and turned to the Big Man she thought was called Ronon. “We’re going to Sateda to meet with the Genii Separatists, are you okay with that?”

Satedean, she realized it now, the big man was a survivor of the Wraith massacre at Sateda. Sora shivered as he cast a suspicious glance her way and then shrugged, the motion setting his dreadlocks swinging. “No one there to complain about trespassers.”

The Butcher barked out, “Stackhouse! Markham! Saddle up, bring some stunners. Davis, gear up, I need you to go and negotiate with this Ladon. Sergeant Sils, take our guest to the hospitality suite, see that she gets a meal.

Sora went along with the soldier, wondering what was going to happen to her now.

~*~

“I’ll go with Davis, you stay here,” McKay said, tugging his vest over his jacket and securing the snaps. Sheppard had followed him into the locker room and given him the run down of what was happening, why a team was going to Sateda.

John wanted to stomp his feet and insist on going, but he knew McKay was right, he was a target out there, and at the moment, he was mission essential, not expendable. He was the only one that could operate the chair to protect the city, since Atlantis refused to acknowledge CB or any other ATA positive as an authorized user. McKay was still working on that, but it was not high on the priority list. “Fine. But I’m going after Koyla, when we go. I want my shot at him.”

McKay hefted a P-90 and a band of ammo. “That isn’t my call. Neither is this, but you should stay. Beckett will let you into the infirmary soon; you should be there when Mitchell wakes up.”

“He’s home,” John whispered, still numb over the realization.

“Yeah.” McKay slapped his shoulder and went towards the door. “Good job.”

Under his breath, John replied, “But I didn’t do it.” All he had done was to scare a frightened little rebel into marking up a map.

Major Davis, leading AG-1, had orders to collect Radim and his people and bring them to Atlantis, by way of four other Stargates. John watched them go, remembering wistfully the days when he was able to go through the Gate whenever he wanted to.

He went to the infirmary to check on Cam while he waited for the teams to return from Raberjois and Sateda. Hailing the first nurse he saw as he entered the room he asked, “Where’s CB?”

“At the isolation chamber, Commander.”

Carson looked away from the window he had been staring through as he approached. “I was counting, in my head, to see how long it would be before you turned up. You lasted longer than I thought you would.”

“I had to see AG-1 off to collect our rebel scum. How’s Cameron? Please give me good news, CB.”

“He has a fever, but not as high as I feared. He’s fighting off an infection. I’ve got him on some IV antibiotics now. He’s been severely beaten, I would say tortured. I won’t give you the run down now, John; suffice to say he has a lot of mending to do. You’ve seen torture; you know what happens to a body over time under constant abuse.”

“Will he live?” John asked fearfully, and pressed his forehead to the window, staring down into the isolation room at his _panor'eten_ , so near, and yet still so far away from him.

Beckett patted his shoulder. “Oh, aye, so long as he doesn’t take any sudden turns for the worse, I’m confident that he will. He’s strong, your Cameron.”

“I want to see him, when can I go in?”

“Give him twelve hours in isolation, let me get the strong medication into him, bolster his immune system. In the meantime, John, I’m worried for Parrish, he hasn’t been responding well to Doctor Heightmeyer, she said you had better luck reaching him yesterday, perhaps you could go over and try to talk with him before you leave?”

John heard the dismissal in CB’s tone, he wasn’t going to be allowed to stand here at the window and keep vigil over Cameron. “I’ll go in a few minutes. Thanks, CB.”

Carson squeezed his shoulder and left him there. He stared down at Cameron, all broken and bandaged and helpless, and he felt something within him tighten, felt the anger rise again. He latched onto it; he would need it when it came time to kill Koyla. And he fully intended to kill Koyla.

“David?” John called as he walked over to his friend’s bedside. Sequestered in the infirmary under observation, Parrish was propped up in bed, wearing scrubs. He didn’t look up as John approached; he was staring into his lap at his limp hands.

John settled his hip on the edge of the bed and gently lifted David’s hand and rubbed his thumb across his palm. “Hey, can you hear me? I owe you one, David, you and Evan both. You got Cam back for us, for me.”

“Evan’s gone, John. Evan and Cameron are gone.”

“Nope. Cam is here, now, in the infirmary. If you want to walk with me, I’ll let you see that for yourself.” John tugged on David’s hand. After a few moments, he leaned up and John helped him climb off the bed. He walked slowly beside John, still seeming dazed and disconnected. It might be the sedatives the doctors had given him to dampen the link without severing it. Heightmeyer and Beckett had decided that as useful as the link to Evan might have been it was too much for Parrish, it was seriously degrading his sense of self and interfering with his grip on reality. David could not be pushed to utilize that method of communication again.

Reaching the window of the isolation room, John pressed his finger to the plexi-glass, “He’s right there, David, look.”

Parrish moved to the glass and stared for a few moments. He turned to look at John with confusion on his face. “That’s Mitchell.”

“Yeah. He’s pretty banged up. But he’s alive. They’re both alive, David; I’m working on finding Evan now, on bringing him home too.”

“Mitchell’s here,” Parrish huffed, his breath fogging the window. “He isn’t dead?”

John saw Kate Heightmeyer standing a few feet away, watching, prepared to intervene if necessary, he supposed. “Not at all. Do you remember anything David? Do you remember telling us about Cameron?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Parrish replied, but with uncertainty. He stared down at Mitchell silently for a bit, and John was content to do the same. Parrish looked over at him and asked softly, “Where’s Evan?”

“Raberjois. A planet called Raberjois, Koyla has him.”

Heightmeyer smiled as she saw David reach out and grab the sleeve of John’s leather jacket. “You know where he is? You’ll go get him?”

Solemnly, John took both of David’s hands in his and told him, “I swear, David. I swear. I’m going to get him back here, no matter what.”

For once, John didn’t mind being the object of a bear hug. Watching Cam through the glass over David’s head, he let Parrish cling to him, sobbing into his neck as John rocked him and made soothing noises. He’d had Momma Wendy to do this for him; David had no one. It made John feel small and guilty. He had been off chasing Genii and David had been slowly going mad with no one to hold him.

~*~

Koyla was going to kill him. Lorne was sure of it now.

The Genii commander was in a frothing rage due to the day’s events. First, they noticed Cam was missing, and a search of the base didn’t turn him up. Then about ten minutes after Lorne and the Genii Evil Science Team quit their work for the day on the puddlejumper, the little ship had exploded. That had hurt; setting the bomb, destroying the tracking beacon and what could have been the means to get himself and Mitchell off this planet. But he had made an agreement with the little blonde Genii double-agent bitch; he had to honor his end of the bargain. And he had to admit that it had been an awesome explosion, Cadman would have enjoyed it.

He truly hoped Mitchell wasn’t dead. Unfortunately when Koyla finally got around to pulling the trigger and blowing Lorne’s head off, the Major wouldn’t be in a position to do anything more for his commanding officer. He sent a prayer heavenwards that the girl had done as she had promised.

Evan understood that there was no was no point in Koyla keeping him alive any longer; he had initiated every piece of Ancient technology that the Genii had in their little stash, and now that he had ended their “Gateship Project” in such a spectacularly satisfying manner, he was a waste of resources. But Koyla apparently intended to get his entertainment value out of Evan’s hide before he killed him. Lorne had been dragged from his cell into Koyla’s torture chamber and the madman had lit into him immediately.

The thing like a cattle prod had been excruciating. As Lorne slumped to the floor he wondered stupidly what the effects of electrical shocks to the physiology of a _panor_ might be. Was it going to make him sterile? He started to laugh brokenly as he realized it didn’t matter anymore, he would be dead. He was never going to see David again. Oh God, David, his poor _keri_.

“You think this is funny?” the snarled question was accompanied by a double-fisted punch to Lorne’s chest, which knocked him backwards. He shook his head to clear it and scrambled back up onto his knees. A kick to his thigh and another to his ribs made him hiss in pain and hunch over. “You have far less stamina than your companion did.” With a wet squelch as his hand came into contact with his bloody scalp, Koyla slapped the side of Lorne’s head, setting his ears to ringing again.

“He’s older; he has more experience with this kind of thing.” Lorne tried not to think of David. Thinking of David took him to a place where he was vulnerable to Koyla’s mental assault. He wondered why he was bothering to fight, the Genii were going to kill him anyway, why suffer?

Because he couldn’t do that, he couldn’t cry ‘Uncle!’ Not to this scum. He had to go down swinging, even if it was with one broken arm and half his ribs busted.

~*~

  
Major Davis was uncertain about Ladon Radim. The Genii was nervous, but that was to be expected under the circumstances. His men seemed all right, a little nervous as well, but they were rebels, criminals according to their government. During their travels through the decoy Gates, Paul had been trying to talk with them, get an understanding of them, but they were not very forthcoming. He hoped Sheppard would have better luck. He’d have to find a way to cue Sheppard in, let him know that the soft sell, the ‘we’re your friends’ approach was not working very well. Sheppard might need to do his Butcher routine some more.

No one had been more surprised by Sheppard’s transformation into The Butcher than Davis. The quiet _keri_ he had first met at SGO was nothing like the ruthless militant leader he was today. Paul had never thought a _keri_ was capable of the things Sheppard had done, the level of violent determination he had maintained in the search for Mitchell’s killers and now kidnappers.

He wondered if Sheppard was going to be able to push all the anger and rage and hatred aside, now that Mitchell had been found. What kind of _keri_ had Mitchell been returned to? Would Sheppard be able to go back to what he had been? These were the worrisome thoughts Davis had as he trailed the skittish Genii through the Gate into Atlantis.

Sheppard stood on the stairs, alone, hands clasped behind his back. Ten soldiers ranged across the room at the rail above, another ten stood at attention around the Gate Room. The lighting was dimmed, it might be a reflection of Sheppard’s mood, Atlantis had a habit of doing that. One thing Davis could say for Sheppard, he did have a flair for the dramatic at times.

Davis stepped around Teyla and moved forward to stand at the base of the stairs and stare up at Sheppard, willing him to catch on quickly as he tried to clue him in, “Ladon Radim and his men. They’ve been a little reluctant to talk to me, sir. I hope The Butcher can get something out of them.”

“I see,” John inclined his head and glared out over those in the room. “Stackhouse, escort the Genii rebels to the main conference room.” He turned on his heel and strode up the stairs, his hands still clasped behind his back. As he went, the lights on the stairs changed colors and the ceiling panels dimmed as he passed. Oh, yes, Atlantis was playing along with the Commander, like a Vegas show runner.

“That way, gentlemen,” Stackhouse pointed up the stairs. Radim and the seven men he had with him obediently followed directions. As Stackhouse passed him by, he said in an undertone, “Good move. I was afraid Sheppard was going to be all nice and screw the pooch on us.”

“I think not. Not until we have Major Lorne back, at least,” Paul walked along beside the Lieutenant. In a voice loud enough to be overheard he added, “The Butcher still hates Genii.”

~*~

John rolled his shoulders, trying to release some of the tension he felt. He wanted this over. He needed a plan. The Separatists filed into the room and took seats around the table. John chose to stand at the center of the room. He trusted Ronon and Teyla to protect his back, and McKay was now monitoring him over the security cameras and connected via radio. He was as safe in this room as he would ever be when dealing with a bunch of Genii. Stackhouse had given him a silent signal, so he knew which one was Ladon, or had claimed to be Ladon when they had picked them up.

“We have something in common; an enemy in Koyla. I want him dead.”

Ladon tilted his head and gave him a small smile. “Then we have two things in common. Do you speak for the Lanteans, Butcher?”

“At the moment I do. You see, the man Koyla spent the last three months systematically beating to death was my Overseer, and can’t speak for himself. So, you could say I’m holding a bit of a grudge.”

Radim looked uncomfortable and shifted in his seat. “If we had known who he was, we would have tried to remove him from Koyla’s hands sooner, please believe that, Butcher.”

John leaned towards the rebel leader, “Belief comes with trust, and we are a long way from that just yet. I want Koyla and I want Cowen. This will not be over until they are both dead. They’re both madmen and will not stop their pursuit of Atlantis. You know the difference between me and them, Radim?”

Radim shook his head, his long hair swaying.

“I’m not a madman. I am completely and totally sane. Isn’t that right, Ronon?”

“Today you are.”

John turned and gave Ronon a look, momentarily dropping out of character as he complained, “Thanks for the ringing endorsement Big Guy.”

“Ronon! He’s still trying to project ‘Scary Guy’ don’t undermine his mediocre acting skills,” McKay’s voice came over their radio channel.

Looking earnest, Radim said, “We wish to help you. We have people inside, people not known to be Separatist sympathizers. We had planned to assassinate Cowen, but Koyla is in our way, so long as there is a chance that the project Koyla is working on might succeed, we lack the backing of people we need behind this movement, we will ultimately fail, even if Cowen is removed.”

Sheppard listened but then shook his head. “Cowen is not my main concern at the moment, Koyla is. He’s holding one of my key people. Sora said something about sabotaging the gateship project?”

“Yes. She was going to enlist the help of your man, Lor, to set an explosive device.”

“McKay, tell Grodin to have Sora brought in,” John said, looking up towards one of the security cameras.

When no one appeared to answer the command, the Genii looked a little disappointed. Radim asked, “She is unhurt?”

“See for yourself,” the door slid open when Sheppard gestured at it and Sora was led in by the elbow.

A smile broke over her face and she cried out, “Ladon!”

He got up from his seat and crossed the room to her. “You are well? They have not hurt you?”

“No. They fed me. That one scared me a little, but I am unharmed,” she pointed to John and he smirked.

“See? I’m scary,” John whispered into his radio at Rodney.

Rodney gave a snort and then said in a patronizing tone, “Yes, yes, we all admit, you’re a very scary man. The Butcher of Lantea. With the exception of the forty six Genii you killed a few years ago by closing the Atlantis Gate shield on their invasion platoon; you have only killed three Genii, Sheppard. Three. And those could arguably have been by accident, you didn’t mean to land the jumper on them. Or did you?”

Without giving John a chance to reply, Rodney plowed on, rambling into the team’s headsets, “Yeah, okay, I’ll give you the Nasty Points for the torturing you did for information, that was rather cold hearted and brutal. But sticking knives in already dead bodies you found was weird, not maniacal. A shame the authorities on P9W-662 caught that serial killer. The whole idea of tossing them through the Gate as a warning was clever, but again, a little creepy.”

“Not now, McKay,” John hissed. Across the room, Ronon had his hand over his mouth, surreptitiously covering his smirk.

“I mean really. Have you brought this up with that Heightmeyer yet? I don’t hold much with psychiatry as a general rule, but you really have some issues. You should talk to her. I could go with you, or better yet, now that he’s home, Cameron should go with you for couples therapy.”

“Not. Now. McKay,” John repeated. The Genii were all giving him funny looks since they could not hear the other side of the conversation. John looked over at Radim and Sora and clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “Okay, so, do you guys have a way of getting into the base?”

~*~

John checked the clip on his sidearm and holstered it, checked that his TAC vest was secure, and checked that the life signs detector in his pocket was working properly. The Separatists had a man on the inside of Koyla’s base already, and he had reported that Lorne had been punished for Cam’s “escape.”

They were going with a direct assault. Radim had snuck about two dozen men into the base, wearing Lantean radios, armed with tear gas and grenades, if it became necessary for them to use them. All the AG teams had C-4 explosive, and were prepared to use it. Four AG teams went in by jumper, cloaking as they cleared the Gate on Raberjois.

Sheppard’s radio clicked the short-long-long-short pattern that indicated it was a Separatist. “Your man is on level three, south corner,” the quickly spoken words were the entirety of the message; anything longer might be picked up by Koyla’s people.

“All teams, you heard the man. Third floor.” John banked the puddlejumper and went towards the Genii base. He set her down and AG-1 along with Cadman piled out. The other two jumpers would remain cloaked, hovering near the base, ready to open fire if needed. John cloaked the jumper and they quickly went to the door that their inside man had left unlocked.

John gripped the handle, said a little prayer that things not go upside down and backwards and twisted it. He smiled back at his team and opened the door. “So far, so good.”

“Don’t trust Genii,” Ronon grunted as he sidled past John and took point position in the corridor. They leapfrogged along until they got to a staircase. When John attempted to go up, Ronon sighed, shook his head and grabbed the handle sewn into the neck of John’s TAC vest, hauling him backwards and dropping him beside McKay. The Sateden pointed a finger at Sheppard’s nose and said simply, “Stay.”

Cadman silently moved to stand in front of them, crossing her arms, alert for any hostiles coming from any direction. “I’m not a child,” John grumbled at the back of her head.

“No one said you were, sir. Maybe I’m not protecting you,” she glanced over her shoulder at McKay, who blushed and looked away.

Their radios clicked the all clear pattern from Ronon and they went up the stairs, Teyla taking up rear guard position. This was not a detention level, John realized, as he crossed through the doorway. Opposite, off to the right, near a bookcase, Ronon was pressed flat against the wall.

“Rodney?” John asked, having handed the scientist the life signs detector when they landed.

“Ahead, around a corner. Thirteen life signs, all in the same room.”

“Shit,” John hit his radio and hissed, “Plan B, we need that diversion, Markham.”

The building shook as Lieutenant Markham shot a pair of drones into it.

“That drew them like flies to honey, only six in the room now,” Rodney reported, waving the life signs detector.

John liked those odds much better. He waved the team forward. The departing Genii had left the door open. Using a mirror he had in his pocket, John peeked into the room. Lorne was on his knees in the center, with Koyla and another soldier standing over him. He waved his fingers, indicating that Lorne was low, the hostiles were high. Both Cadman and Ronon nodded. Teyla and Rodney were tasked with dragging Lorne out, no matter what, and getting him to a puddlejumper. John had promised David he would get Evan home, and he was keeping that promise today.

~*~

As Koyla hit him again, Lorne began to suspect that he was getting delusional, that he was hearing things. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, it had to be wishful thinking, but he thought he heard the tell-tale clicking of SGO radios.

And then, impossibly, he heard the beautiful sound of a Beretta being cocked, and he looked up to see John Sheppard, advancing purposefully into the room, weapon out, and an expression of cold fury on his face. His friend had never looked more splendid in Lorne’s memory. He saw flashes of black uniforms, a swirl of red hair, and the swing of dreadlocks. McKay and Teyla rushed to his side, slung an arm over each of their shoulders and dragged him from the room, away from Koyla, away from the certain death he had prepared himself to face.

“Lorne, you with us? Say something if you can,” McKay demanded gently in his ear.

“With you.”

“Come this way, Rodney. We will go back to the stairs, the way we came.” Teyla, beautiful Teyla, with the strength of any of Lorne’s marines and the courage of a lioness dragged him along and led them out of Genii Hell. If he and David had a girl, he was naming her for Teyla, he swore in that moment. His head dropped forward, he was so tired. Evan wanted to sleep. But he was being rescued and that was bad form, wasn’t it? He should at least be courteous enough to stay awake until they got to the Gate.

There was a clattering of boots hitting the tile in the corridor, Rodney and Teyla stopped as people fell in around them. Someone circled around in front of them and there was hushed conversation. Lorne opened his eyes and realized the uniformed legs he saw were not clad in SGO black. Painfully he raised his head and saw strangers. He saw strangers and one familiar face; the little blonde Genii girl.

“Hey, you came back!” Lorne slurred, interrupting the conversation. He wondered if the smile he flashed her was as stupid as it felt.

She smiled warily at him, glancing up and down his battered form with obvious regret. “Yes, Lorne. Unfortunately, we were too slow to keep Koyla from harming you.”

As they started moving forward again, Lorne could hear gun fire all around them. He tried to remember the Genii girl’s name again. He could hardly keep calling her ‘that bitch’ in his head, now that she’d been all upright and such. “Is Cam all right?”

Sora checked around a corner and then waved to McKay and Teyla that the path was clear before answering Lorne. “He is in your infirmary. Your doctor is treating him.”

“Thank you,” Evan whispered and passed out.

~*~

John gave the signal to go and stepped into the room, his sidearm out. He fired once, clipping Koyla in the neck as the Genii turned at the sound, throwing him backwards. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rodney and Teyla lift Lorne and hurry out with him. He turned and took out another soldier that was targeting Lorne. He saw the remaining Genii go down one by one under Ronon and Cadman’s shots.

In what felt like slow motion, John crossed the room to stand over Koyla. He kicked the weapon the Genii commander had dropped when he had fallen out of his reach.

“You,” Koyla hissed, spitting blood. “Butcher.”

“Yeah, well, you put you hands on my family, asshole.” John raised his weapon again, prepared to fire a shot between Koyla’s eyes. But he saw it wasn’t necessary, his first shot had been enough. Koyla’s eyes went wide and then unfocused, unseeing as he gasped and then coughed out a bloody breath and slumped over.

Cadman scooted around John, knelt by Koyla’s side and saved John the need to touch the corpse of his enemy as she verified, “He’s dead, sir. I’ll bag him for transport.”

John nodded, turned and walked out into the hallway.

The Butcher was done here.


	14. Beyond the Butcher

The floor was moving. It was vibrating under Evan’s back. That hurt, it made his ribs vibrate as well. He opened his eyes to see Teyla crouched beside him. “Help me up, I need to sit up!” he gasped, flailing out with his hands for purchase as he tried to get off his back.

“Be calm, Major Lorne,” Teyla put an arm around his back and helped prop him up against the passenger bench in the back of the jumper.

“Is he conscious?” Sheppard’s voice drifted back from the front compartment.

Laura Cadman, on the side opposite Teyla, held a water bottle to Evan’s lips and answered, “Yes, Commander,” to Evan she whispered, “Hold on, Major, we’re almost at the Gate now.”

Clenching his teeth, Evan nodded stiffly. His arm had been field splinted, and his left eye was no longer crusted closed with blood, he could see out of it. It was his ribs giving him the most pain, and making it hard to breathe. Gasping for breath, he coughed, sending a clump of blood flying across the passenger compartment. “Can’t… breathe.”

“Cadman, move, let me in here,” Evan heard the hiss of a tank being engaged and then Rodney knelt in the vacated space and carefully slipped an oxygen mask over Lorne’s head. “Breathe in slowly. Don’t panic. Panicking makes it worse, and believe me; I know how much worse it can be. That’s it. In, two, three, four, out, two, three, four, you’ve got it, Lorne.” McKay gave Lorne a worried glance and shouted, “How much longer, Sheppard?”

“Less than one minute, dialing now,” Lorne heard Sheppard engage the Gate and start speaking, “Atlantis, this is Sheppard, have the medical team meet us in the jumper bay, Lorne’s having some trouble breathing, and at least a concussion, if not a skull fracture.”

“Acknowledged, Commander, Doctor Beckett will be standing by.”

Lorne looked up at Teyla and rasped, “I have a concussion?”

She clucked her tongue and reached her fingers out to smooth the hair back from his face. “Shh, do not attempt to speak, Major. We cannot tell the extent of your injuries, there is simply too much blood for us to see clearly.”

“You’re a mess,” Rodney agreed with a nod when Evan looked over at him. That admission made him feel better. If he was in dangerously bad shape, McKay would have attempted to be diplomatic or, heaven forbid, sensitive. The honesty reassured him. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

When he woke, he noticed three things. He was no longer filthy and sticky. He was no longer in pain. He was very warm. The infirmary staff had cleaned him up and dressed him in soft green scrubs. The pain was obviously being controlled by the lovely little plastic IV bag that hung off to his left side. The warmth could be entirely attributed to the botanist stretched out along his right side and pressed tightly against him.

David had one arm over his head and draped along the top of Evan’s pillow; the other was curled so as not to rest completely on Evan’s chest. He was sleeping soundly, his breath warm and moist against Evan’s neck. It wasn’t a horrible way to wake up, with his _keri_ where he belonged, after so long being gone. Carefully, trying not to wake him, Lorne raised his right arm and wrapped it around David’s shoulders, and turned his head to press a kiss against his _keri_ ’s forehead.

“Don’t worry, you won’t wake him. CB sedated him about two hours ago,” Sheppard’s voice startled Evan and he strained his neck back to look over David’s head to see Sheppard sitting in a chair beside the bed. When Sheppard saw the contortions he was making, he shifted his chair around to where Evan could see him easily. “Hi.”

“Hi. Why is David drugged?” he was sleepy, his words came out a little slurred.

Sheppard reached over to pat David’s hip affectionately, and leaned forward, his forearms resting across his knees. “He’s had a rough time. Up until a couple of days ago, we all thought you were dead. David was having difficulty accepting what was real and what he imagined. The bond between you was making things worse for him. He had himself a bit of a breakdown when we brought you in, so CB agreed to let him curl up here with you if he agreed to the tranquilizer.”

Running his fingers through David’s hair, Evan frowned, displeased at this news.

Seeing the frown, Sheppard assured him, “He’ll be fine, Ev. We were worried, but he seems to be back on track again. He was agitated but coherent before the doc put him under. And now you’re here. CB says a few days; you’ll be back on light duty.”

“I can’t feel David,” Evan realized suddenly, and he nearly panicked.

“Suppression drug, CB was afraid you might tip over into a rage if you got a taste of what’s going on in this one’s head.” Sheppard patted David’s leg again. Touch starved, Lorne realized, Sheppard was suffering withdrawal from his _panor_ and unconsciously trying to find a substitute. How in the hell had his friend been coping? How had David been coping?

Evan noticed again that it was dark and quiet in the infirmary. “It’s the middle of the night.”

In answer John held his wrist up, showing the illuminated face of his watch; Evan saw that it was 3am.

“Cam?”

It was Sheppard’s turn to frown, his face clouded. He didn’t meet Lorne’s eyes as he spoke in a dull voice. “He’s in a medically induced coma, back in isolation. His fever spiked really high before they got it back down. CB isn’t sure what the damages are.”

Sheppard needed to talk, to think, about something else, Lorne could easily see that. He was probably sitting here instead of by the window watching over Cam for just that reason. “How long have I been here?”

“Since yesterday afternoon.”

“Kolya?”

John gave him a small smirk. “Very dead.”

“Good.”

“Yeah. Very good,” Sheppard agreed and leaned back in the chair. “You in any pain? I’ll go wake the doc.”

Lorne shook his head. “Nah. They’ve still got me on the sweet stuff. Tomorrow will probably be a different story when they cut me off.”

“And give you Tylenol instead.”

“Exactly,” Evan wrinkled his nose at the prospect of the step down from the heavy drugs. He lifted his left arm, which had a small, lightweight cast on the wrist. “I thought this was a lot more busted up.”

“Nope. You got off lucky, just a broken wrist. Your ribs were the worst of the injuries, you’ll be sore for a few days. The scratch on your head was just that, no concussion, no brain damage. You did lose a strip of hair along the stitches though, Frankenstein.”

He was alive, he had David in his arms, the loss of a little hair didn’t worry him. “Thanks for coming for me.”

“I promised David I would.”

“Of course you did. Come here, around the other side,” he waved his hand, beckoning John close. When Sheppard stopped a good foot away from him, Evan made a face at him. “Lean down here, you jerk.” Evan caught John behind the head with the wrist cast and tugged him down, so that their cheeks were touching, holding him when he would have pulled away. John was tense for a moment but then sagged, allowing the contact, accepting the affection. “Thank you, John,” Evan bussed his cheek and let him go.

They fell silent, John staring off into the depths of the infirmary and Evan listening to David’s quiet breathing. He tightened his arm around his _keri_ and nuzzled his nose in David’s hair, inhaling the familiar and comforting scent of him; plants and the greenhouse and dirt and baby shampoo. He felt his eyes begin to burn and he blinked rapidly and then squeezed them tightly shut, willing the tears away, he didn’t want to do this now. Not even in front of John.

When he had himself back under control he asked Sheppard, “How long were we gone? I lost track of the days.”

“Three months, twelve days, thirteen hours and twenty five minutes,” Sheppard answered, almost instantly.

“That’s pretty precise.”

“I’m good at math,” Sheppard shifted in his seat and then looked over at Evan, sadness in his eyes, sadness and guilt? “Ev, I’m sorry. I fucked up so badly, and I can never, ever make it up.”

“Huh? I screwed up by not seeing the Genii ambush coming. What are you talking about? You didn’t do anything.”

“That’s the problem. I let you down. I let David down. I let myself get so wrapped up in my own shit that I didn’t pay attention to what David was going through. This could have been solved weeks ago if we’d known what was going on with him and the bond.”

Guilt. This he understood; it was a typical Sheppard reaction to disaster to shoulder responsibility that wasn’t totally his to bear, so that everyone else would be relieved of the burden. Lorne squeezed his good arm around David and then shook his head at John. “I know David, and I suspect he went to ground in the greenhouse and wouldn’t talk to anyone, right?” Sheppard nodded reluctantly. “He didn’t come to you and try to talk to you?”

“Well, no.”

“So you didn’t push him away deliberately. If you’d done that, I’d take you down to the training room and beat you with Teyla’s sticks myself. I know my _keri_ , John, he’s stubborn and independent and won’t ask for help. I’m certain he pushed everyone away that tried to get close. That was how he was when his parents died, he even pushed me away back then. I’m sure you didn’t completely ignore him for three months.”

“No, but he wouldn’t talk. I just sat with him and let him work in the garden or the greenhouse. I should have pushed him to talk.”

Lorne gave a gruff chuckle, the scenario playing out in his head of what had happened. “Yeah, maybe. But I’m sure you were doing a lot of the quiet man thing yourself, blowing everyone off and refusing to come out of your office. I know you too, John. I remember what you did after your father, after Ford, after Weir. You do the same thing David does when you’re grieving. If you need to blame yourself for anything, blame yourself for the habit you have of hoarding yourself away from those that care about you.”

His friend was silent, lost in thought. He didn’t speak again before Evan fell asleep.

~*~

“You moved the furniture.” It was the first thing Lorne noticed when he walked through the door to their quarters.

Parrish hurried over to the double doors that led to the balcony and opened them. Then he puttered around, picking things up and putting them down, avoiding eye contact with Evan. It had been weird ever since Evan had woken up to find David gone and himself alone. Eventually, Lorne had enlisted Ronon to go and fetch his errant _keri_ and bring him back to the infirmary.

David had been silent, had not said a word. He avoided eye contact and stayed outside of Evan’s grasp at all times. It had long since passed the point of simply getting on Evan’s nerves, it was making him angry. He had mentioned it to the new staff doctor, the psychiatrist, Heightmeyer, when she had come to discuss his time in Genii captivity. She had tried to reiterate what Sheppard had been telling him, that David had broken down, and he needed time and patience to work things through. David's grip on reality was tenuous at best.

Frustrated with his inability to feel David through the bond, feeling like he was missing a limb, Evan sank onto the couch, carefully, since his ribs still hurt when he moved. The pain was good; it reminded him that he was alive. He was alive and walking around. His commanding officer had not been so lucky. Mitchell remained in a coma, his fate uncertain.

The drawers on the bureau opened and closed; when Evan leaned against the cushions, he could see David walking in circles in the bedroom. “David!” He sighed as David stopped and then took a step back, deliberately out of his line of sight. “ _Keri_ , don’t make me come in there after you! And I will come in there if you don’t your little plant loving butt out here.”

Sullen, David stomped out of the bedroom and stopped beside the small table near the galley, across the room, as far as he could possibly be from Evan.

This was getting ridiculous. “David!” He barked, exasperated, and then felt guilty when his _keri_ jumped and then began to fidget with his hands. “Come here, please, just come here.”

Slowly, one step at a time, Parrish edged across the room. This fear he was seeing in his _keri_ left Lorne with a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. David had never, ever, in the entire course of their relationship, had reason to fear him, had never flinched away from his touch or held himself so aloof and apart. It hurt. It hurt so much that Evan couldn’t contain it. “Where’s that packet? The one Beckett gave you?”

David reached into his back pocket and withdrew the thin package, wrapped in paper, and held it out to Evan. Evan snatched it from David’s hand and ripped the paper off, holding up the two syringes contained within. He set the one marked with a red “X” aside on the table by the couch and placed the other across his knee and looked up at his _keri_ , trying to calm himself, breathing slowly, trying to remember everything that the psychiatrist had told him. She had said David was vacillating between reality and an elaborate fantasy he had created to cope with the death of his _panor’eten_. After several days of trying to coax David back, Evan couldn’t deal with this anymore.

“Talk to me,” Lorne demanded. “Anything. Just say something to me David. This silent treatment is making me nuts.” Parrish took a step back, looking away. “You won’t talk to me. Why won’t you talk to me? I can’t help you if I don’t know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. I can’t live like this, without the bond, it’s making me crazy.”

Lorne picked up the syringe from his knee, jerked the cap off, pressed the needle to his arm and depressed the plunger. “NO!” David shouted, stepped forward and reaching a hand out, too late to stop him.

“No? Why?” Evan felt the cold rush of the anti-suppressant hitting his vein. The edges of a _panor_ rage were licking at him, he needed to face this full in the face and get past it. “Are you afraid of what I’ll find out? What the hell are you keeping from me, David?”

David went to his knees in front of Evan and grabbed his hands. “Carson said… Carson said not yet. Carson said not yet. He said blood rage, he said berserker. He said not yet.”

“Oh, God. You’re afraid of me baby… you really are afraid of me,” Evan choked back a sob and covered his face with his good hand. The fog began to lift and he felt the change, felt David flow back over him, felt the bond that had not broken, had merely been masked. And what he felt first and foremost was terror.

With wide eyes, David fell back from him, fell on his ass and lay there on his elbows staring at his _panor’eten_ with disbelief.

And then the words came.

_"You’re gone. They told me, they showed me, I saw, and you’re gone and God is punishing me, and this is all my fault. I’m sorry, Evan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I wasn’t angry, I wasn’t, I didn’t mean what I said. Going mad, seeing things, seeing you. Hearing what I want to hear. Can’t trust what people say, can’t trust what I see. I saw you in the infirmary and I just couldn’t help it, I needed to be near you, just once more, but I can’t, I can’t keep doing that."_

Evan’s hand went to his head, trying to squeeze the pain back in. He looked at his _keri_ and that was when he realized the words he heard were not being spoken aloud. The running stream of babble from David was in his head. In. His. Head. The bond, what he had felt in that cell on Raberjois, was stronger here in person, with David right in front of him; they had at some point achieved true telepathy between them. And now it seemed to be driving his _keri_ mad.

_"You’re going to haunt me now. I never believed in ghosts, but now I do. I do. I see them. I saw them. Mitchell, you, all burned up. Please, please, please leave, please don’t stay here, please just leave, I can’t keep seeing you, it hurts too much. Oh, God, please just go and stop haunting me. I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I didn’t mean it. Please don’t hate me anymore, Evan. Please don’t be angry with me."_

Surging off the couch and straddling his _keri_ ’s hips, Evan put his fingertips to David’s face, just below his eyes, and caressed him with a slow stroke, a motion he had made hundreds of times before. “Shh, shhh, love. I’m here. I’m right here. I’m not a ghost, David. I’m right here. Please, don’t be frightened. Can’t you feel me? David, baby, please, can’t you feel me? I’m right here. I’m right here,” Lorne sniffled; his nose was running, it always ran when he cried, and he was practically bawling now, overwhelmed with emotions, both his own and David’s. He needed to get through to his _keri_ , before it became necessary for him to take the other shot and block all of this out again. Before he failed.

Parrish lay motionless under him, his eyes wide with fear, and then the rambling repetition of the same phrases in Evan’s head suddenly ceased. David went limp, crashing back to the carpet, Evan following him, unbalanced by the sudden move, and he let out a yelp of pain as his ribs hit David’s chest and he lay there, stunned senseless by the wave of pain.

“You’re hurt,” David whispered, his hand going up to lightly finger the line of stitches across Evan’s scalp.

“Work this out, come on, David, talk this out, you’re so smart, you’re so damned smart, I know you can figure your way through this.” Evan leaned as far over to one side as he could in order to alleviate the pressure on his hurt ribs, but remained mostly sprawled out across his lover’s body, needing the physical connection between them.

“Why is your head cut? The Genii didn’t cut your head, they burned you. You’re thinner, why are you thinner?” David’s hands brushed down Evan’s sides. He winced at the contact with his broken ribs, then whimpered when Parrish pressed. David saw the expression, heard the sound, and bit his lip, confused, so confused. “You’re hurting, why would you be hurting if you were a ghost? If you weren’t real?”

The bond was stabilizing, flowing freely between them again, settling into what it should be. Encouraged by the calmness he suddenly felt from his lover, Evan smiled and coaxed, “That’s it, come on back David. I’m right here.”

“Evan?” David blinked, tears beginning to roll down the sides of his face as he lay on the carpet under him. He reached one shaking hand up to touch Evan’s eyelids, his nose, to brush across his lips. “Evan? You’re not gone?”

“No. I’m not gone, David, that was the lie.” He turned his lips into David’s palm and placed a kiss there. “This is the truth, dear heart. This is the truth.”

~*~

Lorne wandered into the infirmary one evening looking for Sheppard. He found him sitting across from McKay, involved in a game that had apparently been in progress for quite a while, judging by the number of tiles on the board. McKay looked up as John set down the last tile and smirked at him.

“Qualt is not a word.”

“It is on Sateda, ask Ronon,” John argued.

McKay pointed a finger at his friend’s nose. “No foreign words, you cheat!”

Sheppard twisted his lips and withdrew the tiles then glanced up and said, “Hey, Lorne.”

“Any change?” He knew what the answer would be, it was always the same, except for the day they had pulled the inhalator and Mitchell had begun breathing on his own.

It was McKay that answered this time, with a shake of his head and a sad glance over at Mitchell in the bed beside them. “Nope. But no backsliding either, he’s still just sleeping.”

Remembering why he had come, Evan cleared his throat and said, “John, we had news through one of our trading contacts about the Genii.”

There was interest in Sheppard’s eyes as he glanced up at the word Genii. That was good. So far, John had been acting as normal as could be expected under the circumstances, he was not overdoing his work schedule, he was eating, he was spending time with his friends. He was working with Kate Heightmeyer; Evan suspected John saw more of the doctor than David did.

“Cowen is dead, assassinated in his sleep a week ago. The planet is in turmoil, the government collapsed.”

John sat back in his chair; his legs stretched out in front of him, and slid his hands into his pockets. “I should probably feel really bad. I should probably fear for my immortal soul that I am actually glad to hear that. The man needed killing.”

“So, what are you going to do, Butcher of Lantea, are you going to dance on his grave or are you going to help?” When Paul Davis had filled him in, Evan had been disturbed by the actions John had taken and upset about his friend’s perpetration of this Butcher persona. He still worried for John; the shadows were not gone from his eyes yet, would probably not go away until Cameron was back among them… if Cameron ever came back to them.

“How is it my problem?” John asked, fitting a few tiles onto the board and smiling up at Rodney in triumph.

“I hate you. I fucking hate you. Forty-three points for three tiles? You suck. Why do I play with you?” Rodney complained, spinning the board around and glaring at it.

Evan shook his head and waited for John to look at him again and take notice of the disappointment he knew he was projecting. When he did he grimaced and spat out, “Fine! Fine! How would you like Atlantis to lend assistance to the unfortunate people of Genii?”

Nodding briskly with satisfaction at John’s wise-assed but conciliatory question, Evan said, “They’ve got a whole generation of people sick with radiation disease. Carson thinks he might be able to start them on a course of treatment to help alleviate the worst of the symptoms.”

“So you want me to call Radim and make the offer?”

“Yes, sir.”

John sighed. “Okay, fine. Let me finish this game first.”

Rodney rolled his eyes and sat back to glare at John. “No, I concede, I don’t have enough tiles left to catch up; you took the last good spot on the board. Go be a great humanitarian, Butcher-boy.”

~*~

AG-8 stepped through the Gate with Radim and Sora and a handful of the other Separatists trailing behind them. Radim gave a weary and wavering smile as he looked up and spotted Evan by the railing. “Major Lorne.”

“If you’ll come up, we have some things to discuss,” Evan called and waved to him. He glanced over through the office windows to see John hanging over the edge of his desk, his ass in the air as he dug around on the floor behind it looking for a file. Evan shook his head in resignation. The paperwork had gone to hell in his absence. It was going to take forever to fix it.

Sora fell into step beside him on the way to the conference room. “You are looking much better, Major. I am glad of this.”

“Thank you, Sora. And I thank you for your assistance in dealing with Koyla.”

She inclined her head gracefully. “I hope we can conclude our business here quickly, Major. Things are very bad at home. We must return as soon as possible.”

By the time the Genii left, they had worked out a preliminary plan to help the most severely affected of their population, those willing to travel to Atlantis to take treatment. Radim was looking to resettle his people, to get them out of the poisoned underworld, but he was meeting much resistance from within from those who refused to give up what they knew. Sheppard was not quite ready to offer blanket amnesty to the Genii and had said as much to Lorne several times. Sheppard and Lorne were aware that Radim was hinting around resettling some of his people on Atlantis, or on the fertile mainland to farm, but Sheppard wasn’t ready to concede on that yet. There was still too much animosity there.

The best Radim was able to get out of the acting Overseer was an agreement to allow, on a case by case basis, those who responded well to the treatment the opportunity to resettle on the mainland. Which would of course be at the discretion of the Athosian elders council, since the Athosians had to share the mainland with any new settlers.

The Genii left through the Gate, Sora turned and waved to them, and Evan caught the small smirk that crossed Sheppard’s face as she disappeared through the event horizon. “What’s the smirk for?”

“I kinda like her. She’s got spunk.”


	15. Wake the Hell Up!

“Ping. Beep, beep, beep. Ping.” He hated that machine. Of all the machines arrayed around Mitchell’s bed it was the Ping Machine that irritated the living shit out of John. He fixed a glare on it, willing it to stop making the annoying noise. Or explode. Either would make him happy. It was one of the Earth machines that Medical had brought with them, not a scrounged Ancient gadget, and so the machine did not cease functioning as any good, well-behaved Ancient device would when commanded to by John Sheppard.

“Cameron, this sucks. Wake up. Yell at me. I need someone to yell at me, and that’s your job. So wake the hell up and do your damned job!”

The medical staff had hoped it had had been a sign of progress when Cameron had been weaned off the inhalator and resumed breathing on his own. They had seen it as a positive sign when his brain scans showed minute changes in activity over the past few weeks. The nurses mentioned to John almost daily that Mitchell was a strong one, and his strength was keeping him from deteriorating at a rapid pace. CB had explained that according to something he called the Glasgow Coma Scale; his _panor'eten_ was making slow progress, he told John the new data collected everyday, but it was just another number on the list of those that went up or down while Cameron did not wake. While Beckett rattled off numbers, John just nodded and made noises at appropriate junctures.

Mitchell had begun to move, writhing on the bed at times, giving an occasional low groan, grunt or sigh. But he did not respond to stimuli, the movements were involuntary, according to the medical staff.

John stretched his legs out and folded his hands on his belt buckle. He looked at Cameron; the only thing within an eight foot radius of where he was sitting that did not perpetually annoy him. His _panor'eten_ slept on; blissfully unaware of the irritating cacophony of noise surrounding him, as John slowly went mad. Not stark-raving mad like Parrish had briefly gone, but a little nuts, nonetheless.

As he had done hundreds of times since Mitchell had been here, he reached over and picked up Cam’s limp fingers, sliding his own under Cameron’s palm in a light caress. Oddly, it did not feel like his _panor'eten's_ hand; there was none of the strength John had come to expect. He rubbed at the callused fingertips of Cam’s gun hand, these digits that had caressed him so very, very softly; fingers gone slack and chilled now. John lifted his _panor'eten's_ hand to his lips and lightly kissed near the knuckle of his little finger, as he drew back, his lip dragged slightly over a scar Cameron had gotten when the neighbor’s chow-chow had bitten him when he was eight.

Weary, for it had been a long day dealing with the latest bunch of Genii freeloaders, John bowed his head down and closed his eyes, trying to block out the noises the machines were making. He would always hate the sound of these machines that had become ingrained in his memory, he vowed. He would forever associate these dark lonely days, with Cameron so close and yet so far out of reach, with the faint electronic beeping of a cardiac monitor. How did people working in hospitals stand the constant bleating of electronic alarms?

When Cameron’s hand suddenly clenched in a spasm, John did not jump. This had happened frequently in the past weeks. When the grip did not loosen, he lifted his head and looked over at Cameron’s face. He did startle then, to see that Cameron’s eyes were partially open, bright blue showing through the narrow slits. John did not release his hold on Cam’s hand as he abandoned his chair and moved to stand near his _panor'eten's_ shoulder. “Cameron? C’mon, wake up. Mitchell? That’s it, open your eyes.” John’s heart fluttered with anticipation as Cameron blinked slowly, his eyes only still halfway open, but open, for the first time in weeks.

“Carson!” John shouted, and set the entire infirmary in motion with his panicked, drawn out bellow for the doctor.

Over the course of the next few hours, Cameron opened his eyes more fully, and responded to demands made of him to squeeze Beckett’s hand and move his foot. When John expressed his frustration as Cameron went back to sleep and didn’t wake again to prodding, CB tried to reassure him that this was good progress. When the doctor asked him if he had felt anything through the bond, John blinked at him and blushed as he shook his head. He hadn’t focused on it; in the excitement he had not thought to focus on it.

Sheppard fell asleep sitting up in the chair beside the bed, as he was staring intently at his _panor’eten_ and willing him to wake again, concentrating on the bond, trying to see if he could feel something, anything of Cameron along the pathways that they had forged between them so many months ago.

~*~

“Commander, did you sleep here?” A quiet voice woke John as his shoulder was gently shaken.

“Huh, what?” He straightened up and looked up to see Paul Davis standing beside him. “I guess I did.”

“You have a 7:30 meeting with the Dristel councilor. If you go now, you’ll be in time.” Davis had given John just enough time to jog back to quarters, shave and change his shirt. With Lorne back at work, Davis had shifted to a position assisting both of them; John’s schedule was one of his main concerns.

“Okay.” Regretfully, he stood and bent to kiss Cameron’s forehead. “I’ll be back later.” He had taken to eating his meals here in the infirmary beside Cam’s bed; often one of his friends joined him. It looked like he was going to miss breakfast and Rodney today.

After the Dristel councilor and his advisors had left, John busied himself with some of the backlog of filing Lorne had set him to doing, passive-aggressive punishment for making a mess of the Major’s administrative systems in his absence. During the ensuing argument over the chaos, John had called him a petty dictator, Evan had called him a raving anarchist, and they laughed themselves sick. Things started to settle back to normal, except that Cameron was not copied on outgoing reports anymore. Nor did anything get sent to the dark office beside John’s to be reviewed or approved. Out of respect for their missing man, no one used Cameron’s office.

Lorne walked past the office window, and John whistled to get his attention and waved for him to come in. “When’s the databurst scheduled? I have to record something and tell Momma that Cameron isn’t dead. I wanted to hold off as long as possible to give her the best news I could about his condition.”

“It goes out three weeks from Monday. Hey, I heard through the grapevine that he had his eyes open yesterday?”

“Yeah. Responsive to simple commands too. Damn Ev, I hope he’s all in there.” John dropped his head into his hands, breathing deeply to get past the momentary wave of panic.

Lorne allowed him a minute to collect himself before asking, “You okay?”

He raised his head, scrubbed a hand over his eyes and then nodded. He squared his shoulders and pressed on, as he had to do.

~*~

Cam could smell him long before he said anything, before the warm lips touched his forehead. John still used his soap; the one Momma had started buying for Cam twenty years ago when he said he liked the scent. It smelled twice as good on John.

He opened his eyes and stared at his _keri_ , willing John to understand, pushing at the link between them. It was easier than talking, he couldn’t do words yet. Sometimes John seemed to understand the emotions Cam was trying to share. He smiled, or hoped he smiled, when John picked up his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“You’re thinking at me again,” John grinned at him. He reached over and combed his fingers through Cam’s hair, now grown too long, pushing it back and tucking it behind his ear. “What are you thinking at me?”

‘Please understand, please understand. I need you to understand,’ Cam concentrated, trying to push pure emotion at John.

Sheppard tilted his head and frowned, his brow furrowing. “Okay, wait. You really are thinking at me, aren’t you?”

He nodded.

John wedged his hip onto the mattress beside Cam, his legs dangling over the edge of the bed. “Ok, let’s try to narrow this down, Twenty Questions style. I’ve learned a few things dealing with Parrish. The link Lorne and Parrish have is some really, really scary shit, Cameron. Have you ever met anyone with true telepathic links before?”

He nodded.

“That wasn’t one of the twenty questions, by the way. So, are you trying to tell me you’re in pain?”

_No._

“Do you want me to bring you something?”

_No._

“Do you want me to go away and leave you alone?”

_NO!_

Sheppard wrinkled his nose. “Hey, I sorta got that. At the same time you shook your head, I got this negative feeling. Let’s keep going. Heightmeyer says utilizing these links takes time and practice. Do you know Heightmeyer?”

_No._

“She’s the new shrink O’Neill sent through. She’s been a big help getting Parrish settled. And me, I guess. I hated talking to her at first, but I kinda got used to her and the therapy is helping. She’s nice.”

Confused by John’s mention of O’Neill and this new doctor, Cam tugged on his hand and tilted his head, hoping John saw the question there. He left off pushing pure emotions at John for the time being, he was confused. When had John seen O’Neill? How had John seen O’Neill? How long had Cam been gone and out of it? He stared at John and then noticed the bars on John’s collar for the first time, Commander’s bars. Since the Genii had snatched him, John had been promoted? He raised his hand and awkwardly batted at the new rank insignia. His motor skills were still lacking; he nearly punched John’s chin.

“Oh, yeah, O’Neill did that too. Doctor Corrigan found us a ZPM, so I went home. I took Kilmar and Irako back to SGO, they needed intensive medical care, and Carson thought it best they go to a Jirante specialist. I had to go tell Momma, Cameron. You know that she deserved to hear it from me and not in a letter if it could be avoided. I saw Heather Lorne too and told her about Evan.”

Momma thought he was dead? Cam slammed his head back against the pillow, frustrated that he couldn’t talk, couldn’t scream, couldn’t undo this. With alarm on his face, John reached for him, cupping the back of his head and pulling him into an embrace, petting his hair, stroking his back and making soothing noises. God, this sucked. He breathed deeply, willing himself to be calm as his _keri_ , this odd _keri_ with a strength Cameron had never expected to find in a partner, held him until he was calm again.

John gently pushed him back against the pillows and looked into his face, telling him solemnly, “We have a week and a half, we’ll get you talking again, and you can record a message for the next databurst. We’ll set this right Cameron.”

He gave a nod, and clenched John’s hand again.

“I felt all that, you know. How upset you just were. Heightmeyer says the strongest emotions will be easiest at first. I’m not sure how comfortable I am with this over-sharing thing, you know. I hate dealing with my own emotions most of the time, and now I get saddled with yours too? Raw deal, _panor_ , raw deal, I didn’t know I was signing on for that.”

Mitchell pouted at him, and John leaned in and kissed his lips lightly. “I’ll get over it. The other stuff that goes with it is kinda cool. I missed you,” John looked into his eyes and repeated in a whisper, “I missed you so much.”

Cam nodded in reply, he understood, he returned the sentiment. He pushed the emotions again, hoping John understood, now.

“You missed me too, eh?”

He nodded. This was getting annoying. Why didn’t Sheppard get it?

John shifted a little nervously beside him. “Let’s go back to twenty questions. Are you trying to get me to do something?”

_No._

“Trying to tell me something?”

He nodded.

“Something that happened to you, something the Genii did?”

 _No._ The adorable head tilt again, in response to the negative answer. Cam smiled, that image of a quizzical John had been one of the memories that had carried him through days with Kolya.

“A feeling? Ah, shit, Cameron are you trying to do feelings talk at me?”

He nodded his head vigorously.

“You suck, you know that?” John pouted for a few moments then conceded, “Fine, fine. I’m listening. I’m concentrating and listening to that little inner voice, or whatever that zen bullshit Heightmeyer is always pushing is called. Tell me.”

He did.

John blinked and sat back slightly, looking at Cam oddly. “Really?”

Cam nodded, lifting his hand to stroke John’s cheek, roughly smacking his knuckles against John’s 5 o’clock shadow.

Catching his hand, John turned it over and placed a kiss at the center of his palm. “I love you too, Cameron.”

He got it.

Cam settled back against the pillows and smiled.

~*~

“No.”

“You’re like a bloody two year old. Just open your mouth and take the damned pill.”

“No.”

“Cameron.”

Cam crossed his arms and glared at Beckett, trying to get him to take a sleeping pill, which Cameron did not want to take. He wanted to be awake when John came back. “No.”

“I don’t see that it’s worth all this fuss, Doctor Beckett,” Kate Heightmeyer said reasonably, coming to stand at the foot of Cam’s bed.

“There, see?” Cam flashed a grateful smile at Heightmeyer. “I’m fine. I don’t need the sleeping pills anymore. I don’t need to be here anymore, I want to go home.”

Carson rolled his eyes and dropped the pill packet into his pocket. “Tomorrow, if your labs come back clear of any anomalies.”

“Tonight, when John comes home, and I’ll come back here tomorrow for more lab work.”

In reply, Beckett turned away and stalked off across the infirmary. Cam looked at Heightmeyer and shrugged, he did not understand Beckett the way John seemed to. She pulled the rolling stool over and sat beside the bed, as she had been doing every day since he had woken and begun communicating again.

“How are the nightmares, Commodore?”

“They come and go.”

She nodded. “Torture is certainly fodder for them. Not many _panor_ are put in the situation you were in.”

“We talked about this already, Kate. I’m okay. I don’t remember most of the bad stuff; I was delirious with fever by that point, according to Lorne.”

Kate drummed her fingers on the edge of the datapad she held in her lap. “I actually wanted to talk with you about John, if you don’t mind.”

“Isn’t there some kind of doctor-patient confidentiality thing that prevents that?”

“Not for a bonded _keri_ undergoing treatment, no. But I have already mentioned to John that I had to speak with you in order to uphold the law. I promised to keep some things confidential, I hope you will honor that and not require full disclosure. If you do require full disclosure, I am legally bound to release all tapes made during our sessions to you for your review.”

“No. Just, no. What you and John talked about is his business,” Cam held up his hands, disgusted by the whole concept of legalized prying. _Keri_ had fewer rights than children, in many cases. “If he wants to tell me, he will.”

Kate gazed at him. “He told me you were unusual for a _panor_. I should have believed him.”

Cam squinted at her suspiciously and then held out a hand to her. She touched her fingertips to his palm and let them slide off. The barest of touches, but it was enough. “You’re _keri_.”

“Yes. If you don’t mind keeping that between us, not many people know, I prefer to keep it that way.”

“Does John know?”

She nodded. “I told him. It was the reason I was chosen to come here by Marshal O’Neill, I’m uniquely qualified to counsel _keri_ , and at the time, you had two here in need of my services.”

“Our secret then. What is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“You’ve had time to readjust, for the bond to flow cleanly between you again, time for the link to strengthen. Do you feel a difference in John?”

He didn’t want to answer that question, so he deflected. “Different in what way?”

She saw through him, and hit him with both barrels in response. “He was alone, thinking you dead for over three months. He cut himself off from his usual support system. The one person he might have turned to, who might have been able to cut through the grief to reach him was also dead. Without you, without Lorne, he was cut adrift with no anchor and with all the coping mechanisms he had built up over the years gone rusty from disuse. I ask you again, Commodore, because you are the only one who can answer, how did that affect him? Do you see a marked difference?”

Cam was silent, he had noticed. He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, he wasn’t ready to know, wasn’t ready to acknowledge the hurt his apparent death had caused his _keri_. “He’s different.”

“In what way? Is this something I need to address?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what it is. I don’t know what he did.”

“You haven’t seen mission reports. I don’t suppose Ronon or Rodney would have mentioned it, in deference to John’s privacy. He went on a rampage looking for Genii. He did a little torturing of his own trying to find the ones responsible for what was done to you and Lorne. He seemed intent on killing every Genii he could find, either directly or indirectly. They started referring to him as The Butcher of Lantea, a title he embraced, Commodore.”

Cameron shook his head in denial, but he knew. John had done these things. It had marked him, changed him. “He told you this?”

“No, he has told me very little. I heard about most of it second hand and from mission reports. You will undoubtedly have access to this information, to more than I know, when you return to duty. I am not telling you this to cause you pain, Commodore, or to put any kind of strain on your relationship with John.”

“Then why?”

“You need to know where the injury is in order to treat it. This is not something John will let me see. If anyone has a hope of getting to it, it is you. And it will not come overnight, or in the course of one conversation. This will take time. He barely acknowledges what he did to cope during that time when I bring it up. Forcing him to face emotions he is not ready for…”

Cam shook his head. “No. He handles his emotions differently. Pushing him will make him shut down. He needs to be led, not shoved. How do I even start?” He looked up at the pretty psychiatrist, pleading for an answer.

“I cannot tell you that. I’ve come to understand him somewhat through our sessions, but you know him best. Listen to him. Use the bond between you. From what he has said, much of this is new to him; he is learning from you, Commodore. Guide him. As you said, lead him. I’ll be here, if you need help. If I can possibly help, I will. I will continue to see John as a patient, with your permission.”

“Of course. John has medical carte blanche, Doctor; you don’t need my permission to treat him, so long as he is willing.” Cameron waved his hand in dismissal of the permission thing, it still bothered him.

Kate tapped a fingernail against her lip and then blurted, “He has nightmares.”

“They’re back?” Damn it. He thought those were over and done with.

“Do you know what they are about? Has he confided in you about them? He won’t tell me the details.”

Mitchell shrugged. “No, he never told me either. He had them when we first came here. I suspect he’s always had them.”

“That might be a good starting place, talk to him about the dreams, get him to tell you what he remembers.” She checked her watch, “I have to go, I have another appointment. Keep in touch, Commodore.”

Cam nodded, and gave a small wave.

Like a ghoul, Beckett appeared out of nowhere, brandishing a syringe. “Right, fine, drop your pants and roll over.”

“I told you I don’t want to sleep yet, I want to see John, especially now.” He knew he was being petulant, he didn’t care.

Beckett made a rolling motion with his hand. “It’s not a sedative, ye great stubborn booby. It’s a contraceptive, you’ve been weaned right off all your inhibitors and you need to start again. I’m not letting you out of here until this is in you.” He waved the syringe.

With a sigh, Cam undid the ties of his scrub pants and rolled over.

~*~

Returning from an important and boring trade summit on the planet Bumblefuck, John decided to swing past their quarters to pick up a DVD to watch with Cam, he needed to unwind and a sophomoric comedy would suit the bill just fine. He had showered in the locker room, and was already comfortably dressed in sweatpants and Cam’s Air Services sweatshirt, brought with him when he returned from Kansas and stowed in his locker this morning when he had dressed for the mission. He wore it constantly when off duty.

He opened the door and crossed the common room in the dark, knowing what he was looking for was right on the corner of the table beside the sofa.

“John?” He turned towards the bedroom and ran to the door, smiling when he saw his _panor'eten_ spread out on his stomach across the bed, a pillow tucked under his chin as he read one of John’s Spiderman comic books. He waved the magazine at him. “Hi.”

“Hi. Does Beckett know you escaped?” John dropped the DVD he had picked up onto the nightstand and crawled up onto the bed to kneel beside Cam.

Mitchell smiled wickedly. “Even better, he let me out. I’m cleared for desk duty.”

Plucking the comic from Cameron’s fingers, he dropped it atop the DVD; there was time for that stuff later. “Is that so? What else are you cleared to do?”

Cam tossed the pillow to the head of the bed and reached for the edge of the sweatshirt John was wearing. His sweatshirt, he noted. He needed to touch his _keri_. This had been missing; they had not been able to do more than kiss and caress, with the occasional furtive stroke beneath the sheets while Cam had been stuck in the infirmary. He tugged on the shirt, hard, knocking John off balance and into his arms.

“Whatever I need to do,” Cam whispered and savagely took John’s mouth, not needing to hold back as he had for the past weeks while he recuperated under the eyes of the watchful medical staff.

He was rougher than he had been in the past, driven by a need to claim all over again, to make John his again. When John whimpered, just once, under the onslaught, it sent a jolt straight through him. Lust flared hot and hard, bolstered by _panor_ hormones.

He bit down on John’s lower lip, sucking hard, enough to cause a bruise that would leave his _keri_ swollen tomorrow, marked. The knowledge of that had him needing to do it elsewhere. His lips left John’s; he made a trail of small sucking bites to his chin, down his throat. He scraped his teeth across John’s Adam’s apple. The sweatshirt was in the way, he tore at the hem, yanking it up, ordering it off in no uncertain terms. John was bare-chested under it, which pleased Cam. His hands roamed over John’s chest as Cam rose up onto his knees and bent his head to John’s throat again, picking up where he had left off, kissing a trail up to the spot just behind and beneath John’s left ear that would compel John to make that noise again.

When he did, Cam gasped out his _keri_ ’s name, and sucked hard, intent on marking his territory, this was a claiming. His blood was on fire with the raging need to take, to hold, to make the _keri_ in his arms bend to him, submit to him. The first time, he had tamped down on this; he had let the claiming go sweetly, slowly, gradually. He had let John set the pace the first time around. He did not think he could do that now, if he went much further, he knew he could not. He leaned back, forcing himself to breath slowly, though in truth, he was panting.

“John. I need… I don’t know if I can hold back,” he said raggedly, needing John to get away from him now if he could not bear the full extent of his _panor'eten's_ raging passion. And it was raging; it was going to go out of control quickly. Their love play in the past had been just that, playing, after the first claiming, the first bonding. If John could not handle more, then this needed to stop, right now.

~*~

When Cam pushed him roughly away, John had felt mildly affronted. But then he looked into Cameron’s eyes and he knew his _panor’eten_ was trying to protect him, trying to pull back; not push him away. Cam was giving him a choice; stay and possibly go to a place John was not entirely comfortable with, or run. He knew he’d have to leave their suite if he made the choice to stop. He couldn’t be unfair to Cam like that and attempt to sleep beside him after denying him.

John had been given a second chance, Cameron had been given back to him, by God or by fate or by the little gray men from Valhalla, it didn’t matter, he had him back. He put his hands out, clasping the back of Cam’s neck and tugging, touching their foreheads together and looking into his eyes. He made his choice. “Don’t hold back.”

With a strangled cry of, “Oh damn John!” Cameron dove back at his mouth, grinding their lips together painfully. He stopped and rested his cheek against John’s neck, panting out one last opportunity for John to say no. “Are you sure? Please, tell me you’re sure, John.”

“I’m sure. What do you want me to do?”

Cameron took his mouth again, sucking his lip. His fingers were digging into John’s shoulder blades as he held him in place, devouring his mouth hungrily. He broke off as he realized John had asked him a question. “Just… just don’t fight me. I won’t hurt you.”

“I know that,” John smiled at him, and sat back drew his knees up in front of him and wrapped his arms around them. He expected Cam would want John to suckle him; Cam did so love long, slow blow jobs. This was familiar, sitting on the bed with Cam over him. He met his lover’s eyes and whispered again, “You’d never hurt me.”

Mitchell ripped off the t shirt he had been wearing and shucked the infirmary scrub bottoms. Once he was nude, he knelt beside John, grabbed his ankles and yanked him down so that he was flat on his back and quickly divested John of his sweatpants and shorts.

Cam’s hands roved over John’s body, alternately massaging, stroking or caressing, though the caresses were few and far between. He pinched too. In the past, when Cam had put his mouth to John’s body, he had kissed and licked but now he was biting; biting and sucking with the intent of leaving bruises. Pushing John’s legs apart, he twisted John’s thigh upwards slightly. He lowered his head, licking then sucking, once again to the point of bruising.

It was intense; there was no other word John could use to describe it. He could not discern a pattern to where Cameron would touch him next, or what the touch might be. John expected a slap to land, but it never came.

And then Cam took him into his mouth, almost fully swallowing him down. He was not gentle about it, he used his teeth, scraping up and almost biting as he sucked. Lifting his head he looked up at John, their eyes meeting. His hand circled around John’s cock, and he began to slowly jerk him, never breaking eye contact. John gasped out in small sputtering breaths, bucking up into Cam’s hand, pushing up with his heels to try to get more friction.

“Whose are you?” Cameron demanded suddenly. John whimpered, teetering close to the edge as Cam bent his head and blew lightly on the bulb of his dick. He licked one wet stripe across the tip as he slowed and then stopped the motion of his hand. “Whose?” he repeated the question.

John tossed his head on the pillow, needing Cameron to keep going, to stop withholding. “Yours. Damn it, Cam, yours. Please. More.”

With a gruff chuckle, Cam continued to stroke and twist as he sucked and licked, and ran his teeth along the underside of John’s cock just the way he knew if he continued to do would drive John straight over the edge. While John was squirming, almost mindless with pleasure from the best blow job Cameron had ever given him, if not one of the best he had ever received, John felt his _panor'eten's_ fingers stroking down, across the span of skin behind his balls, to tentatively finger his hole. He clenched instinctively, this was new, this was where he had always drawn the line in the past, with his _keri_ playmates, even with Cam.

But this was what he had pledged, what he had known he was agreeing to, when he gave himself over to Cameron, when he put himself in his _panor'eten's_ hands. Cam had sworn, he had promised, and John had to have faith that Cameron would not do this unless he knew that John was protected from conception. He forced himself to relax. He tried to force himself to relax. “Shhh, okay, okay. Going slow,” Cameron soothed, gentling him as he would a skittish colt. John let himself be handled, allowed himself to be soothed.

John felt the cool liquid slick of the lube they kept in the nightstand, and wondered for a moment how Cameron had gotten his hands on it. Then he stopped thinking about anything as Cam’s slick finger edged inside him, slowly fucking him as Cam’s head bobbed up and down on his cock. The juxtaposition of the two completely different sensations made his head spin. Mindless, he bucked up into Cam’s mouth, not noticing when one finger became two. His attention shifted to the feelings those slowly circling fingers were causing, the stretch and pull as Cam’s knuckles slid through the muscles at his asshole. He knew he was making a whole bunch of embarrassing noises as he writhed on the bed.

When Cameron added a third finger, it was simply too much feeling at once, and John came in a gush, jerking up a few times until he was spent and then he flopped against the mattress, his knees dropping open, giving Cameron full access to his ass and the ministrations he was performing to it.

“Okay?” Cam asked gruffly, his voice husky and sounding so far away, though his breath was on John’s hip, he was not far away at all. “Feel good?”

Unable to speak, he nodded. He looked at his _panor'eten_ , resting his chin on John’s thigh, his eyes on John’s face as he slowly and carefully worked him open.

“Ready for more? Can’t hold off… much longer,” Mitchell was not unaffected; his breath was just as ragged as John’s.

Again, John nodded. Cam surged upwards, his fingers dragging out of John’s bottom as he did so. He held himself over John, and dipped his head to catch John’s mouth in the first truly gentle kiss he had given him all evening. Breaking off the kiss, Cam studied his face for a few moments. “I love you, John Sheppard,” Cameron sealed the declaration, the first time he had made it aloud, with another kiss.

Cam nudged John’s knees a little further apart and settled between his thighs. After giving John’s face a quick caress with his dry hand, Cam slid his hands under John’s hips and lifted him to meet his cock. Wondering when Cam had taken the time to put on a condom, he was a bit distracted for a moment as Cam pressed against him. John expected pain, he was prepared for it, but instead Cameron slid easily into his body, stretching him and filling him slowly.

He swore he could feel every bump on his lover’s shaft as he moved past the tight entry, he could feel the silken give of Cam’s cock as he pushed all the way in, and then withdrew, and repeated the motion. Cam didn’t wait, didn’t give him time to adjust or discuss or even marvel at what they were doing. “Sorry, babe, gotta move,” Cam apologized. He gave him a swift, hard kiss on the lips, and then began to thrust into him. John put his hands on Cameron’s shoulders, holding on, his fingers digging in as a new batch of feelings cascaded over him, from a different area of his body.

He was crying; keening out Cameron’s name as Cam began to move in earnest, slamming forcefully into him, taking him, finally claiming him as was his due as _panor'eten_. Somehow, in the midst of his own pleasure, Cam noticed that John was hard again, and grasped him, stroking him in an irregular pattern as he fucked in and out of John’s ass. Cam came first, roaring out John’s name as he spilled hotly inside him. John followed him not long after, gasping as he came. Cam rolled off to the side, withdrew with a small lewd pop, dragged John into his arms, and cradled his head against his neck.

“Mine. You’re mine. No one is ever, ever taking me from you again,” Cam mumbled gruffly into John’s hair as tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes.

~*~

It took Cameron a few days to get back into the flow of work and for people to get over the novelty of having him returned to duty.

He blushed furiously when Beckett noticed the bags under his eyes during a follow-up exam and wondered aloud at his sleeping habits. He could hardly tell Beckett that his _keri_ had suddenly taken to screwing like a whore and was riding him ragged.

The enormity of John’s dealings with the Genii hit him as he slowly reconstructed his missing months through mission, departmental and field reports. When he finally got to the reports about the retrieval of Lorne from Koyla’s detention area, he read through everything several times and then set the file aside and called Evan to his office to get his report in person.

“Come in, Evan, and if you would please give us a bit of privacy,” Cam waved at the wall of windows surrounding his office. In moments, they had darkened at Evan’s command; Atlantis didn’t like Cam enough to do his mental bidding as it did for some of the others. “Thanks. I certainly hope Beckett can get that artificial gene booster he was working on to the actual testing stage. I’d like to at least be able to control the lights around here.”

Lorne agreed silently with a nod and dropped down into the chair in front of Cam’s desk. “What’s up?”

Mitchell tossed a file onto the desk and then folded his hands and regarded Evan with a serious look he rarely used when dealing with him. There was usually no need, Lorne was an exemplary officer and had never needed any kind of disciplinary actions. “I’ve been through these reports a number of times and I find a stunning lack of detail in your accounting of the events on Raberjois.”

“I was only vaguely conscious, sir,” there it was, the sign Mitchell had been looking for; Evan blinked and looked to the side as he replied. He was hiding something.

“What did John do? Not one of these reports details what happened in that room, other than rephrasing ‘in the confusion, Koyla was killed’ in several creative ways. He slapped his hand down on the desk, making Evan jump. “You and I are going to sit here until I have an answer I am satisfied with. Eyeball me all you like, Major, I mean it.”

Evan dropped his eyes and squirmed in his seat. “I don’t remem…”

“Bullshit!”

“Ronon and Cadman came in firing; one of their shots must have hit Koyla.”

Cam stood and walked around the desk and loomed over Evan. “Who came through the door first, Lorne? I need to know if it was him.”

Evan looked down at his lap and wouldn’t answer for a full three minutes. Just as Cam was about to shout at him again, he confessed quietly. “John. John came through first. Ronon and Cadman broke protocols, disobeyed your standing order, they let John go first, and that’s why the reports are vague.”

The Commodore leaned back against his desk. “John killed Koyla.”

“Yes.”

Cameron filed the knowledge away with the other pieces of the puzzle he was assembling in his mind. When he had a clear picture, he would confront his _keri_ , but not before. “Thank you, Evan, that’s what I needed to know. Dismissed.”

Lorne could not vacate the room fast enough, leaving the windows shaded in his haste to be away.

~*~

“Tell me about the nightmares, John,” he had waited until John was sleepy and relaxed after a long back massage before broaching the subject. Luckily, John had not yet mastered the massage techniques he had asked Cam to teach him, and so Cam still had his wits about him, despite also being loose and satiated from a massage.

John turned his head on the pillow and met his eyes, and Cam expected him to refuse to answer as he took a few moments to speak. “When they took me.”

“When who took you?” He walked his fingers along John’s scalp, playing, fluffing the soft hair and then patting it down with his palm as he went.

“The people from the Registration Authority. I dream about that day, about everything that happened.” With a small contented purr as Cam scratched at a favorite spot, John shifted closer to him, shoulder to thigh touching. “They came after dinner time. I was doing my homework. Dave was watching cartoons. My mother didn’t want them to come in, she tried to close the door and tried to push them out, but they shoved her.”

It seemed once the floodgates opened, John was willing to talk it out in halting, stilted sentences as he recounted events from over twenty years before. Cam kept up the light touches, in an effort to remind John that he wasn’t alone.

“They had guns; I saw them in the wall mirror, from where I was in the dining room. Two of them pointed guns at Mom. Another guy picked up Dave when he tried to get to her and held him. Dave started screaming, and kicking, and fighting them. Mom yelled at me to hide. I went down to the basement. I hid behind the boiler, in the dark, I was skinny enough, I could fit. I heard them searching the house, I heard them coming down the stairs.” As he was telling the story, his eyes were open but unseeing, fixed on a point near Cam’s ear. Though the night was as warm as Auburn in July, John started trembling slightly.

“Shhh. Okay, all in the past, all in the past. You’re here with me now.” Cam wriggled a little to get in a better position and then pulled John fully into his arms.

“They were coming. I heard them searching the basement. They couldn’t find the light switch. They were coming closer. I got scared. I shoulda stayed put, I always won Hide-and-Go-Seek when I hid there, I was far enough back, but I got scared and I climbed up to the window and squeezed through. I didn’t know they had men in the yard. I didn’t know! Mom told me to hide and I ran instead. If I did what she told me, maybe it wouldn’t have happened.” His forehead was pressed against Cam’s cheek.

Sheppard fell quiet for a few minutes, taking stuttering breaths. This was some of the oldest pain for his _keri_. If John could get through this and address some of what was buried so deeply, maybe Heightmeyer was right, maybe it would help with the more recent emotional scars.

John’s voice was low, but calmer when he resumed his story. “They were waiting outside. Two of them grabbed me and dragged me out through the window. I tried to get away, but they were big, and they knew what they were doing, they threw a blanket over me and carried me. I couldn’t see anything. It was hot. I heard a door open, and they put me in a vehicle. Someone held my legs, and someone kept my arms pinned. The lab lady pulled the blanket off my face and I could breathe again.”

For a few moments, Cam worried that he should let go of John, he was holding him rather tightly, with his arms tucked to his sides. With a little shake of his head, John dispelled his concern. “It’s okay, I know you’d let go if I asked, this doesn’t bother me.” He did shift a little to get more comfortable. Cam noticed that John’s breathing was off; he was still upset.

“Someone gave me a shot of something in my neck. They tried to be nice to me, they talked calmly and quietly. The lab lady in the van kept my head in her lap, she smelled like vanilla.” That was another of John’s quirks explained; the vanilla pudding cups that were tossed, sometimes violently, onto Rodney or Ronon’s trays after ending up on John’s in the mess hall. Also, his aversion to the telemetry lab, and Doctor Jorgenson in particular, she of the notoriously overpowering vanilla body wash.

“Everything else is a jumble; I guess it was the drugs. I overheard them talking in the van, I heard it was for the treatment. I told them no. I told them I didn’t want to. They didn’t listen. I tried to fight them. I didn’t know then that they had Dave too, he was quiet, they’d drugged him. They took us to a place, strapped me to a table and then there were needles. I couldn’t move, it was like I was frozen. I wanted my Mom, I called for her, but a mean guy yelled at me, told one of the lab people to shut me up, or else. They said it wouldn’t hurt, but they lied. They said if I closed my eyes, I wouldn’t know what was happening, they lied. They said I wouldn’t feel anything, but they lied. They just kept lying to me. I felt everything.”

At that point, John’s trembles turned to violent shaking. Mitchell held him and said nothing, knowing if he made mention of the wetness he felt dripping down his throat to pool under his neck on the pillow, John might clam up. It seemed he was done talking, and after a long time, his breathing evened out. It took Cam a while to figure out that John was asleep.

It took him even longer to calm his own outrage over what had been done to his _keri_. Most children were taken to the centers for testing and the procedure while they were still small, unaware of what was happening. Why had they waited until John was twelve? He hoped this had been cathartic for John, for Cam was now infuriated and hurt on his behalf. Pain shared, pain halved, he prayed. Mitchell did not sleep well that night.

In the morning, John had not met his eyes over breakfast until Cam had grabbed his chin and made him look up from his plate as he got up to leave the breakfast table. He didn’t say anything, just forcefully pushed the emotions he was feeling at John. A small smile and a nod, and everything was fine again between them. Bending down, Mitchell kissed him, ignoring the catcalls from the marines in the mess hall, and then ran off to meet Teyla for his stick fighting lesson.

And so the pattern of their days returned to normal.


	16. Wrestling Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mayhem ahead. Just sayin'

The Gate began to spin and Chuck called out, “Unscheduled activation, no teams currently out!” When the seventh chevron lit and then the Gate lights fluttered past it to the eighth, Chuck shouted, “Receiving SGO ID code,” at John’s nod of approval, Chuck called, “disengaging the shield.”

Cameron joined John and Evan at the rail. The databurst was not scheduled for another nine days. This must be a serious situation for Earth to break protocols, using the Earth ZPM to dial Atlantis, when it was their turn to do the dial out. The Gate splashed blue and then a mass of people began pouring through, a mixture of SGO personnel and civilians, all rushed and frightened, hauling packs and gear and dragging stuff behind them as they came, each one as loaded down as possible. This was not a good sign. Cam met John’s eyes, each acknowledged silently that this meant trouble, and took a moment to bolster their resolve to see this through, no matter what it was. The Atlantis command staff charged down the stairs, their feet hitting the treads almost in unison.

Taking charge of the most pressing problem, Lorne whistled sharply to get people’s attention and began directing traffic, as there seemed to be no pause in the clusters of people coming through. Radio calls went out for emergency security backup to the Gate Room for crowd control. The guards that had been on duty started steering people towards the large empty rooms located on the level below them, which had once served as barracks when they first arrived and were now used as a temporary staging area for various functions requiring a lot of floor space.

“What’s going on here?” John yelled, looking for an officer among the uniforms.

A Sub Commander came through the Gate, burdened as the others were with pack and totes. The tall, middle aged man glared around the room and shouted, “I need to see Commander Sheppard!”

John waved. “I’m Sheppard, what’s the situation, Sub Commander?”

“Stephen Caldwell, sir.” His expression was grim as he held up a data transfer stick. “The full report is on here, along with your orders. The short version is, we’re evacuating Earth, Atlantis is one of the fallback positions.”

“What the fuck?” McKay appeared out of nowhere, snatched the tiny data drive from Caldwell’s fingers and dashed off to the Control Room with it before the Air Services officer even realized he’d been burgled.

“Keep moving, we have a lot more people coming behind us!” Caldwell barked over his shoulder. Lorne had radioed again for more marines to help control the chaos.

Mitchell grabbed Caldwell’s sleeve and dragged him along up the stairs. “Give us the short version, Sub Commander, why is Earth evacuating?”

“Commodore Mitchell? I thought you were…” Caldwell’s eyes boggled as he looked Cam up and down, and then he recovered himself, “Sorry, sir. The Jirante Accord failed; their sector was overrun by the Hrsul. We thought the Hrsul would leave us alone, but they started sending ships to attack Earth, they’ve made dozens of runs at us over the past month. The Hrsul intent, which they clearly stated when the attacks started, is to wipe humanity off the planet so that they can colonize. Conventional weapons have proven useless against them. The EUG and SGO have sent Marshal O’Neill and a small strike force to Antarctica; to try to utilize the Ancient weapons platform there, but it is a last ditch effort, hampered by the fact that they stripped the ZPM from down there to send these people here, they’re running Antarctica off some jumped up naquadah generators. The decision was made to try to save as many people as we could. We’ve been gating survivors to the Alpha Site, Langara and some of our other allies for the last two weeks.”

Mitchell caught one word in that last sentence, “Survivors?”

“The Hrsul did more damage in one week than the original Gate incursions saw over the first ten years of the Star Gate program. Our populations have been decimated. We pulled in everyone we could, as quickly as we could, and sent them off world. Civilians are and have been the Hrsul’s main target.”

“This is…” Sheppard was staring with shock at the people pouring through the Gate.

“Hopeless,” Rodney finished for him as he joined them on the stairs and waved the data drive. “I quickly looked through the overviews on here; there’s no way we could fight this, not with our current level of weapons technology.”

Sheppard had managed to fix his ‘Officer in Charge’ mask back into place, and even kept his voice from trembling as he asked, “How many people are coming, Caldwell?”

“As many as we can get through in seventy-six minutes. We’re burning out the Antarctica ZPM to do this; we’ll get two connections, and that’s all. There’s ten minutes allotted for gear and supplies at the eighteen minute mark, and ten again at fifty eight minutes. I’m told you know the drill and what to expect.”

“Yeah, shit flying everywhere,” Rodney mumbled, subdued by the news, as they all were, they all had someone they had left behind that was now on their minds. “I’m going to go read the rest of this, see if I can’t figure something out to help the Marshal at Antarctica. Hopefully there’s something I can tell them before the connection shuts down. Maybe they’ll have someone with a brain working on this, like Carter or even Lee.” He waved the jump drive and headed towards the relative quiet of his lab. He turned as he got to the bottom tread of the stairs, raising a finger as a thought occurred to him, “I’ll also send the databurst we have ready, it might be the last time we communicate with home.” Then he left.

“What happens after the seventy-six minutes? What happens to the people that don’t make it through?” Mitchell watched as a trolley of medical supplies was dragged through the Gate, people riding precariously atop the boxes. There was no spacing left, no time was being wasted, they were shoving everyone and everything through at Atlantis as fast as they could from SGO.

Caldwell stood at attention, his eyes flickering over the refugees flooding the Gate Room. “They will be evacuated to whichever ally we… Earth can dial using naquadah generators to power the SGO Gate. If they have to spin it manually, they will.”

“Our families?” Mitchell asked the question he had been putting off.

“At the first signs that the trouble was serious, the Emergency Notification Chain to the SGO families was activated, they were told to get to one of the pickup points for transfer to SGO. As many Atlantis family members as could be located in the confusion were held at SGO to come through in this move. You have to understand, sir, it was - it is - chaos back there. The Russian Gate was put into operation, evacuations were happening from Europe too. Some of your families may have been sent to the Alpha Site or Langara, or one of the other allies that took in smaller groups. The jump drive that man just ran off with has a list of names of transferees we were able to compile.”

Sheppard turned and barked up at the Control Room, where shell-shocked Lanteans were milling, uncertain what to do. “Grodin! Check with Rodney, try to access that jump drive he’s working with and cross reference it with our database, see if you can get a disposition on any family members for our people!”

“Yes, sir!” Grodin’s voice echoed back as he disappeared deeper into the Control Room.

Tapping his radio, Sheppard told Lorne, “Have the men try to sort family members out of the mob as they’re coming through, have them taken up to the jumper bay, we’ll try to match them up as quickly as possible.”

“Are you the ranking officer in this mess, Caldwell?” Mitchell looked around but saw very few officers in the crowd. Those he did see had dropped their bags somewhere and were attempting to assist Lorne and his men with moving the mass of people.

“I am. Commodore Kawalsky was sent to take command of the Alpha Site. The rest of the flag officers went to Langara and the other allies. You got me.” Caldwell gave a desultory shrug, tugged off his cap and wiped his sweaty brow and bald head with the inside of his sleeve.

“Well, we’ll put you to work soon enough. Stow your gear in the corner of one of the offices at the top of the stairs there and then go find Major Lorne and see what assistance he needs as far as coordination. And, Sub Commander; Lorne may only be a Major, but when he says jump, we all say ‘how high?’ or else we might find the floor pulled out from under us, do you understand?” Mitchell crooked a brow at Caldwell.

“Don’t give the Major any shit, sir. Understood,” Caldwell gave him a cocky grin and headed off to dump his stuff.

“… ooooooo!” A female voice wailed; a scream that must have started on the other side, drawing the attention of many in the room. A struggle was going on in front of the Gate; someone seemed reluctant to have been brought here, slung in a fireman’s carry across the broad shoulders of a young dark skinned marine.

“Oh, shit!” Cameron exclaimed as he recognized the tousled blonde head of the kicking and wailing woman that had been dragged through the event horizon. Cam started fighting his way through to the Gate to get to her. “Sam! Sam! Samantha!”

Seeing Cameron, her mouth dropped open and she fell silent and sagged, lying limply over the marine’s back and neck. Cam gestured back over his shoulder, checked the soldier’s name tag and said, “I’ll take her, Corporal Greer, you clear me a path back to the stairs.” Greer bent and untangled himself from her legs and arms. As Mitchell gathered her up like a child, Sam fell against him, sobbing soundlessly as he cradled her and followed the marine on a winding path through the swarming crowd of confused and disheartened people.

“Is that Doctor Carter?” Sheppard asked in surprise as he jogged over to meet his _panor'eten_. Cameron nodded, and carefully lowered her feet to the floor. Seeing that she was incapable of walking up the stairway, John took one of Sam’s arms and helped Cam to carry her up, slung loosely between them. They settled her on the couch in Cameron’s office just as Lorne’s voice rang out over the city intercom for all personnel to clear the Gate Room floor for a rapid supply transfer. They were at the eighteen minute mark.

John made a quick call on the radio as he went to his office and grabbed the water bottle off his desk and brought it back to Cam, who was kneeling in front of Samantha, rubbing her wrists and hands. “Sam, talk to me. What happened?”

She blinked stupidly at him as he forced water between her lips. “Cameron? They told me you were dead.”

“Nope, I’m tough to kill, sweetheart. What’s got you all bent out of shape, Sam?” Cam was concerned; Carter was usually unflappable, even in the direst of circumstances. For her to be this upset, something bad must have happened, something personally traumatic.

“They made me leave. I could have helped, I wanted to help, but they forced me to leave,” Sam replied, her voice distant as she stared around at the unfamiliar office, blinking in an owl-like manner.

John tapped Cameron on the back of the neck to get his attention, and then pointed down at Sam’s midsection - at her noticeably swollen midsection.

Understanding now why she had been forced through the Gate unwillingly, Cam sighed heavily and shook his head. “Sam, honey, you’re carrying?”

She sniffled and nodded, her hands going to her belly. “I didn’t want to leave.”

“Of course you didn’t. But they wanted you safe, sweetheart, you and your baby. Gonna tell me about your partner?” She sniffled again and shook her head. “Okay, whenever you’re ready, I’m here, I’ll listen.” He patted her arm, unsure what to say or do now, he needed to be paying attention to what was going on in the Gate Room, but he couldn’t leave one of the best friends he had ever had alone to deal with this. He was torn between two duties.

“Commander Sheppard, what is going on?” Coming in response to Sheppard’s earlier urgent radio summons, Doctor Heightmeyer ran into the room. Seeing Samantha huddled on the sofa, she nudged Sheppard aside and walked over to settle onto the sofa cushion beside Sam. “I’ll stay with her, go deal with the problem.” Kate waved a hand in the direction of the Gate Room, dismissing both officers.

Thankfully relieved of duty for the time being, Cam patted Heightmeyer’s knee and stood, leaving Samantha in the doctor’s capable hands for the time being. When he and his _keri_ left the office, Sam was sobbing into a handkerchief Kate had produced seemingly out of thin air.

Side by side, Mitchell and Sheppard walked to the railing and watched the last of the supplies come hurtling through, and then another stream of people came, winding their way around the supplies to follow the instructions of the marines guiding them into the interior of Atlantis.

“What are we going to do?” Sheppard leaned over and whispered to his _panor'eten_ as he leaned heavily on the rail.

Cam ran a hand through his air and shook his head in bewilderment as he stared bleakly at the Gate. “I dunno. I just… don’t know.”

~*~

They were in Cam’s office, with maps of the city spread out over every surface, including electronic representations lighting the walls at John’s urging. Housing was the main issue at the moment, finding safe places for these people to stay in the Ancient city. Only a small percentage of the local real estate had actually been cleared for habitation during their time here, previously they had only needed a few hundred units.

John and Cam were arguing over whether to put their manpower to use erecting barracks in the open areas outside or clearing more individual rooms when John’s head suddenly snapped up, listening intently, his attention drawn away from the discussion. A broad smile crossed his face as they heard a ruckus coming from the direction of the Gate Room.

“What the hell? I’m telling you, jerkwad, I don’t need security clearance. I piss on your clearances. So take your protocols and shove them up your ass and let me up the fucking stairs! What the fuck is wrong with you people? I gave you my name. I told you where I wanted to go, why are you giving me such shit about this? They said the command officers were up here, I want to see the friggin' Overseer.”

“Sir, please, this is a highly restricted area,” the guard responded, his voice calm in the face of a lightning fast stream of verbal abuse, one worthy of Rodney McKay on a bad day with the lab monkeys.

“Screw that, this whole base is a fucking restricted zone. I’ve been holed up in a closet the size of my grandmother’s twat, sitting around with my thumb up my ass waiting for that goddamned Gate thing to do whatever it does. I am so done with waiting. The SGO fucktards sent me to another galaxy, another fucking galaxy; because they said my brother was here. I want to see my brother, right the fuck now. Do you understand me, you little shit? You take me and my _panor'eten_ to him now. Or are you hiding something from me, is this a cover up? Is that it? Did something happen to my brother? I am not waiting another minute. Is this your name on your shirt? Sils? Well, Sils, if you don’t step aside, I’m warning you, I’m going to rip your goddamned dick off and shove it up your left nostril. Without lube.”

As the list of the physically impossibly acts about to be perpetrated on the unfortunate Sergeant Sils continued, Cam saw John’s relieved smile and the loosening of some of the tension that had been in his shoulders for most of the last hour. When their eyes met across the desk, Cam smirked and confirmed, “Dave?”

“Dave.” John breathed out and then smiled and yelled in the direction of the stairs, “Sils! Let him through, he’s just a big enough pain in the ass that he’ll do it, all of it!”

~*~

A surprising number of matches were found for Atlantis personnel, and tearful reunions were happening all over the base as people were matched up and located. The Sheppard boys, Cam was learning, were atypical in everything. John had to endure a few minutes of being alternately hugged, punched and berated by his brother, a treatment Cam got to experience for the first time as Dave turned and hit him too. Then he cursed him out for being a stupid ass soldier, who in Dave’s opinion could be three times smarter than he was and still be as dumb as horse manure.

Janelle stood by patiently, rolling her eyes and commiserating with Cameron silently over the fate of dealing with such bizarrely odd _keri_. There was too much organizing to be done for a long visit, so John had reluctantly sent Dave and Janelle off with the nervous Sergeant Sils to his and Cam’s quarters. His old bedroom room was still empty; they could stay there until permanent accommodations could be found. No one believed the refugees were going to be returning to Earth, not after Rodney had come and shown them the data.

Cameron was hunched over his desk, looking over the schematics for three of the buildings being considered as primary housing for the Earthers that had just come through. “Cam,” John said, and tossed his head towards the windows of the office when Cam looked up. He followed John’s gaze to see Lieutenant Markham escorting two people across the flyway. “Mary.” A smile broke out over his face and he threw back his chair and ran out to meet his cousin Mary and her teenaged son, Ethan.

Laughing, Mitchell enveloped Aunt DiDi’s daughter in a bear hug, grateful to see that someone of his kin had survived. He had so many; it had been tearing him apart all day that not one had made it to Atlantis. When Dave and Janelle had turned up, it had struck him even harder that he might never see any of them again, even if they had survived the Hrsul attacks.

“Cam?” Mary broke off the hug, one hand going to her mouth as she shook her head in disbelief. “I’m just flabbergasted. We thought you were dead.” Cam shook his head and hugged her again.

“Sir, sorry it took us so long to get them to you, they were in the first group to come through this morning, before the Major started separating the Atlantis families out.”

Shaking his head at the apology, Cam told him, “They’re here now, Markham, thank you.” He pulled Ethan into a hug, and the fourteen year old was so happy and relieved to see him that he didn’t even protest.

Mary hugged John as well. It was John who asked fearfully after the family members Cam had to be most worried about. “Momma, Cole, Aunt DiDi?”

“I just don’t know, John. Aunt Wendy got the call for evac early, because of Cam’s rank, or maybe because of John now, she’s still high on the notification chain. Almost everyone pulled up stakes when Wendy started calling around to the family and telling them to haul ass out to Colorado Springs. That was before all the phones went dead. I heard that a few diehard old aunties and uncles refused to leave their farms, but almost everyone else went.” Cameron nodded; he knew exactly which relatives would never abandon their land, even if it was literally the end of the world.

“Cole had a van and a bunch of the cousins with his crew. Aunt Wendy, Mama, Ethan and I took your Mustang, Cam; it was the only vehicle up to making the drive.” Mitchell waved off her concern, the car wasn’t important anymore. “We made it to Colorado Springs, but Ethan and I got separated from them between two of the checkpoints on the way onto the base.”

With a bashful grimace, Ethan confessed, “People were pushing and shoving in the line. I fell and cut my knee open. Mom stopped to help me. When we finally got up and moving again, Granma and Aunt Wendy were gone.”

“It was crazy there. We lost track of them, no one could tell us anything, only that if they had made it into the base, they would have been sent off world. We walked around the tent city for days searching for anyone, after we were cleared and tagged,” she held up her wrist, showing him a green plastic bracelet labeled “Atlantis.” Mary sighed tearfully, and John pulled her into a one-armed hug and rocked her a little as she sobbed.

Cam regretted that he didn’t have more time to spare for his family, but they were in the midst of a crisis. After a brief discussion with John, they offered the sofa to Mary and an air mattress that was in Cam’s field pack in their closet to Ethan. After a few final hugs and a promise to see them as soon as they had a free block of time, Lieutenant Markham led them away.

The final head count of refugees was six thousand four hundred and twenty six. They had a lot of work to do to clear suitable housing in safe buildings within the city. The seals and marines were working overtime doing room by room searches to be sure there were no booby traps or structural damages that could hurt unsuspecting civilians. As fast as they cleared a floor, it was filled with refugees. The pace was insane and exhausting; it looked like they would be working around the clock to get things settled.

~*~

“Sir? Commodore Mitchell, you need to go to bed now.” Cameron lifted his head from his folded arms and blinked stupidly at the strange Major standing in front of his desk.

“Huh?”

The Major cleared his throat a little nervously. “Commander Sheppard sent to me get you. He said to tell you that you’ve done enough for one day and to come home.”

Cam yawned and checked his watch. It was two hours past the time he had told John he would stop. He had rousted John from the chair his _keri_ had fallen asleep in and sent him home three hours ago. “I’m coming, Major…” Cam tilted his head and looked at him blankly; he didn’t know the officer’s name, couldn’t remember ever seeing him before.

“Davis, Sir.”

“Sonovabitch! You’re real!” Cam jerked fully upright and awake and pointed his finger accusingly at Davis, who had the decency to blush.

With a sheepish smile, Davis nodded. “Yes, sir, I am. You didn’t really think I was invisible, did you?”

Cam picked his jacket up from the chair where he had thrown it hours before and shoved his arms into the sleeves. “No. But I did suspect Evan of creating a fake personnel profile and funneling the rations and other allotments off into some nefarious fund somewhere. I was planning on making him split the profits when I figured out how to catch him at it.”

“If he had done that, sir, you would have never caught him. He’s devious, our Major Lorne, very, very devious.”

Cameron couldn’t argue. “Goodnight Davis, nice to finally meet you.”

“Goodnight, Commodore.”

~*~

Grateful that their quarters were fairly close to the transporter for their section, Cam stumbled in and pressed the proper button. He might have bumped into a wall or two on his way down the corridor; he couldn’t swear that he didn’t.

He forgot Ethan would be sleeping on the floor. He walked into the darkened common room, tripped over the edge of the air mattress and went down hard in a sprawl. He was slightly dazed by his impact with the floor and froze, assessing whether he had injured anything or not.

“Are you okay?” John’s voice whispered near his ear as strong hands slid under his armpits and paused, waiting for him to give the all clear to move.

“Yeah.” With a grunt, John hauled him up. Damn, he was more tired than he had thought. He mumbled, “Thanks, I forgot.” John steered him by the shoulders to the bathroom, opened the door and pushed him through. The lights came up to a low level, just enough for Cam to see the path to the toilet. When John leaned against the wall, crossed his arms and appeared as if he was going to watch, Cam snapped, “I’m not three, I can do it myself.”

“I know you can. But I need you in one piece and you’re liable to walk into a wall or fall down again and give yourself a concussion. Since we need you operational tomorrow, I’m supervising. Now, watch what you’re doing, we’ve got company and I don’t feel like washing down the bathroom at this hour.”

Completely out of sorts, Cam hissed, “Fuck you, John,” and instantly regretted it.

“Not tonight dear. Maybe tomorrow.”

Cam washed his hands and then leaned heavily on the sink. He glanced over to see John looking at him with concern. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“I know you didn’t. Come on,” his _keri_ pushed away from the wall, walked over, and took his hand. “I’ll rub your neck. I’ve been taking lessons.”

If John spent more than a minute rubbing his neck, Cameron was unaware of it. He remembered John stripping his uniform off him and giving him a shove onto the bed. He vaguely recalled gentle fingers at his throat and behind his ears. The next thing he knew, the alarm was going off on the bedside table and John was shaking him awake.

Cam rolled over and stared at the ceiling. “It is going to be hellacious today.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” John agreed, stretching his arms up over his head.

Their eyes met, held. Their emotions were perfectly in sync through the bond this morning, there was very little interpretation to be done. Quietly Cam said, “The world sorta ended yesterday, and we’ll never know what happened.”

“If we find another ZPM, we could dial Earth, or the Alpha Site,” John replied with no real conviction in his voice.

Mitchell shook his head. “You know we can’t risk that. McKay’s report clearly states we cannot stand up to these Hrsul, anymore than Earth could. And unless we found four or five ZPMs, I wouldn’t waste the power; we need to protect everyone here.”

“Our whole mission has changed.”

Sliding from the bed, Cam gave a sad nod. He had not wanted to think of all the ramifications of the Earth evacuation yesterday. He had focused on the tasks at hand in order to get past his horror, shock and grief. But today, they would have to deal with it head on.

~*~

The conference room was packed when John and Cam arrived. The entire senior staff, every department head, Sub Commander Caldwell and the other officers that had been tossed through the gate at them yesterday had all reported as ordered for this meeting. Forgoing a chair, John took up a position against the wall. Cameron went to the podium that had been set up. Once there he found that someone, probably Davis, had left the notes he had made for the meeting - and accidentally left on his desk - in a neat pile there. A quick glance at the man as he lifted the stack of papers got him a nod of confirmation. He offered his thanks with a small tight smile.

When the room fell silent at his raised hand, Cam told them, “We have a lot to go over, and there is a lot to do out there, so we’re going to make this as brief as possible. Obviously, this is a difficult situation and an enormous change for us all. We have lost our home world. But we are not lost. We have Atlantis. We may not have Earth’s support, but we have each other. He stole a quick glance over at his _keri_ , leaning against the wall opposite Cam’s position. “We will not simply survive. We will thrive. That is our new mission directive.”

He paused to let that sink in. The chaos of yesterday was over and done with. It was time to move forward.

“You are here because you are the leaders of Atlantis. You head a team, a department, a unit. I am calling on each and every one of you to go back to your work groups today and review every project and inventory every room, lab and storeroom. We need to assess what we are doing now and what we need to be doing in order for Atlantis to move forward. Obviously, the protection of Atlantis has been and shall continue to be the primary function of the military. Commander Sheppard?”

Oh, Cam was going to pay for that later, judging by John’s scowl and the small wave of pique that hit him through the bond. John pushed away from the wall and reluctantly took the podium. “Any questions?”

“Are you making any changes to the current command structure?” a Captain at the back of the crowd asked.

“Not just yet, there will be some minor shifting of responsibilities as needs arise. We will be adding the newly arrived officers the duty roster. Watch the usual internal notification system for those updates.”

A young newcomer, one Cameron judged to be no more than a year or two out of the Academy, raised his hand tentatively. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

“Matthew Scott, sir. With all the civilians spreading out on the base, do you anticipate an increased need for military police patrols?” Mitchell scratched the kid’s name on a piece of paper. Scott didn’t know it yet, but he’d just volunteered himself to head the new MP division.

Sheppard nodded. “Yes. For the moment, everyone’s scared and shell-shocked. Give it time, and they’ll settle in, and human nature being what it is, we’ll have plenty of work for the shore patrol.”

A few more minor questions cropped up, John fielded them easily. He reiterated that they had to concentrate on clearing living quarters first. The next thing would be reorganizing the Gate Teams; they would need to make a few more trade alliances to supplement their supplies. When the questions thinned out, Cam called on McKay to take over.

“Yes, well. I could spend an hour telling you what my department is working on, but I doubt any of you would understand more than the basics. Since I want to get back to doing what I should be doing, I’ll limit myself to those basics, shall I?” Rodney glanced around the room, dared anyone to challenge him and then pointed to Zelenka. “Zelenka is in charge of engineering, I promoted him this morning. Complain to him when the water runs out. The water situation will be his team’s primary focus.”

Concerned by this unexpected piece of news, Mitchell raised his hand and cleared his throat to get Rodney’s attention. “Doctor McKay, I was unaware that we had a potential problem with water.”

McKay gave a sigh. “Until yesterday, we didn’t. Our desalinization procedures have been perfectly acceptable for the few hundred people we had here. The tanks were filled to capacity. But with the addition of sixty four hundred more people utilizing the same few tanks, we have a problem. We’ll also need to look into a new fresh water source on the mainland. We’ve been sharing with the Athosians, but our needs will quickly dry up the springs near the settlement. So, in answer to your question, Commodore, yes, we have a bit of a water problem, but I am confident Zelenka can deal with it.”

“As am I,” Cam gave the Czech doctor a brief but cheery smile of confidence. The little scientist nodded in response.

“We’re also going to be cutting back on power; we need to ration ourselves until another ZPM can be located. I have asked the anthropology department to make that their priority. Botany is going to be switching their focus from finding pretty and exotic new plant specimens to look at to finding us food sources and improving the yield on what we have now. Isn’t that right, Doctor Parrish?” Parrish looked started to be called on, but nodded his head in reply. “Also, they are going to be working with medical on supplementing our current pharmaceutical supplies. I would recommend, Commodore, that we put a moratorium on trading away our medical supplies to the Pegasus natives, we don’t have a source to replenish them as yet.”

For someone that complained of the “soft sciences” under his direction, McKay had a pretty good handle on what each department needed to focus on. He did a quick run down of the other departments of the science branch and then turned the podium back over to Mitchell.

“I’m not going to keep you, thank you all for coming. As much as I would love to say ‘my door is always open’ right now, I’m going to ask everyone to please keep the chain of command intact until we can get things under control and flowing positively. See your immediate supervisors with your ideas and progress reports. Try to keep your complaints to a minimum and work out whatever issues you have, if you can’t work them out, then for the love of God, shelve them for the time being. We all need to put forth a brave and confident face for all those scared people out there. Dismissed.”

John sauntered over to him as the room rapidly cleared. “Don’t call us, we’ll call you?”

“I was interrupted no less than twenty times yesterday for bullshit stuff that could have been handled within the departments. I don’t mind lending a hand, but sometimes it gets a little ridiculous.” Mitchell scratched his head and looked up to see that Carson had not moved from his seat. Nor had Kate Heightmeyer; they were both looking at Cam expectantly.

When McKay attempted to go to the door, Beckett called out, “Rodney, if you would not mind staying for a wee bit longer?” Rodney’s shoulders slumped, but he came back and sat on the edge of the table beside Carson.

The room cleared except for the five of them, and the door closed. John jumped slightly when it happened, which told Cam that Beckett, the only other ATA positive in the room, had done it. “What’s up, CB?” John asked in a drawl, picking up a chair, spinning it around and straddling it backwards. It was all an affectation, Cam knew John was putting up a front of casual calm for the benefit of his friends, while in reality, he was on edge and distraught over the whole situation with Earth.

“There’s an elephant in the room that no one has mentioned,” Carson said, looking at each of them in turn.

“What?” Cam was confused. He glanced at his notes and thought quickly over everything they had discussed, protection, power, food, water, housing, even the start of civilian self-policing and self-governing down the line. “What elephant?”

Kate said calmly, “The Jirante are gone.”

“The Jirante are gone,” Mitchell repeated, not seeing why this was so important, then he happened to glance over at his _keri_ , and he did.

Carson had already jumped in to explain, as Cam was coming to his realization. “No more procedures. No new potential _keri_ are going to be identified in the population and changed. The only _keri_ we’ll have going forward are the natural-borns to any existing bonded couples. With our population so low now, and only a small percentage able to reproduce, Earth’s humans as a race are now facing extinction levels, gentlemen.

They sat in silence for a time, each of them unsure what to say.

It was Sheppard that broke the uneasy quiet after taking a deep and shaky breath. Cameron knew that it was costing John to ask the doctor, “Are you able to duplicate the Jirante procedures?”

“With time, I might be able to, but it would take me years of dedicated research, and I dinna think I have that time.”

“I think the time might be better spent trying to find a way for the _panor_ and _keri_ among us to breed with the Pegasus natives instead.” McKay crossed his arms and looked at Beckett. “Especially now, since we’re stuck here.”

Beckett stood up and started moving towards the door. “Aye, you’ve a point, Rodney; I’ll not discount any avenue. I should go; I left a woman in labor down in the infirmary.” Mitchell waved him on, and Rodney took the opportunity to flee.

“How’s Sam?” Cameron asked Kate. He knew she had taken Sam back to her own quarters to look after her.

“Shaken up. She doesn’t want to talk. The situation must have been truly dire for her _panor'e'ten_ to agree to be separated from her.”

“So this is separation anxiety? I didn’t know she had taken a _panor'e'ten_ ,” Cam said as he followed Sheppard and Heightmeyer to the door. “I’ve only had a few emails from her in data bursts; she was keeping this close to the vest. I appreciate you looking after her, Kate.”

“The least I could do. I’ll see you later, as you can imagine, I have a lot of new patients to see today.”

“You have my sympathies, Doc,” John said. He slapped Cam on the shoulder and turned to go over to Chuck who was waving to get his attention.

When they got to Mitchell’s office door, and John was out of earshot, Kate said, “He seems better, present circumstances aside.”

“How so?”

“More here, not as distant. More settled, he was constantly in motion, when you were gone. His eyes aren’t as wild. You’re good for him, Commodore.”

“Thank you for saying so, Doctor. Good luck today.”

Heightmeyer patted his arm and walked away towards her office.

Turning to go into his office, Cam groaned as he saw four people waiting inside. He plastered on a fake smile and went to deal with the little civilian delegation. “Mister Wooley, I didn’t know you’d come through to Atlantis.” It was going to be another trying day, Cam could tell.

~*~

The past two weeks had been a roller coaster for everyone in Atlantis, a ride that tracked through every level of bad one could imagine. All Cam needed now was for the sensors to pick up an incoming Wraith hive, that would make his Most Horrible Month Ever absolutely complete. He was drained, his _keri_ was exhausted, and they hadn’t had any private time together since they had lost Earth. It was making Cameron Mitchell very cranky.

“Pssst, come here.”

Mitchell spun on his heel towards the whispered words. He smiled when he spotted John in the doorway of a room he had never realized existed on this level of the tower. John had a mischievous look in his eyes, a look that matched the mild excitement Cam was picking up through their bond. When his _keri_ crooked a finger and beckoned him over, he shrugged. The meeting with the engineering department could wait a little while, Zelenka had only asked him to stop by this afternoon, Cam hadn’t committed to a specific time for the drop in.

John grabbed the lapels of his jacket and dragged him into the dark room. There were no windows. “Where are we?” Cam asked, squinting into the dimness. He could only vaguely see the outline of his partner, a shadow on the shadows.

“Storage room, no talking,” John grunted. He pulled Cam up against him and kissed him, hard. He backed Cam up against a smooth wall, and pressed against him as he brutally took his mouth.

When they broke for air, Cam whispered teasingly as he ran his fingers along John’s throat, “Why? Are you afraid we’ll get caught? Is this a restricted area?”

“Because I said so. Close your eyes.” Roughly, John grabbed his hands, pulled them away from where they had been caressing and teasing at his hot spots, and yanked them up over Cam’s head, holding them there. He resumed kissing him, hunger evident in the way he ground himself against Cam.

Though he knew it was useless to protest when John was like this - grabby and rough, hot and demanding - when he was allowed to breathe again, Cam put up a token protest, for appearance’s sake. “I was on my way to a meeting.”

The grip on his wrists eased, but John ordered him, “Stay.” It was one of those days, when John needed to be in absolute control. He must be having trouble with Woolsey and the ‘Civic Guard’ again. They had both developed an intense hatred for the former OIA investigator turned civil activist in Atlantis.

John’s hands slid down his front as he knelt. Cam’s belt and fly were quickly undone and John pulled his cock out, jerking him with a fast twist. He felt warmth from John’s mouth as he breathed on him, before John’s tongue swirled at his slit. With a long low groan, Cam threw his head back and let John lead him, take him.

~*~

Feeling the moment when Cam let go, John smiled around his cock. It had taken him long enough. Stubborn _panor_ that he was, it always took Cameron too long to give in and just feel. He was learning, but it was taking John time to train him. He chuckled at that thought, knowing he could never let Cam in on it. His _panor'eten_ was nontraditional in many ways, but some things were just ingrained by nature and nurture. Mitchell was a leader; following did not come easy to him, not at all.

Lightly lapping at the tip of Cameron’s dick, he teased there for a short time before sucking Cam down, swallowing, working the muscles of his throat to intensify the sensations. It was the reward to Cameron for behaving himself, for keeping his hands up and doing as he had been told without a fuss. John slipped a hand into his pocket and fumbled the tube of lubricant out and open, slicking up two fingers and pressing them into his lover’s hole, massaging him there as he stroked and sucked him slowly.

Mitchell shuddered, and the shudder passed through John as well, his cock hardened in response. He contemplated undoing his pants and pleasuring himself as he tended to his partner. He felt the tremors start in Cam’s legs and decided to hold off, and take this up a notch instead, more than he had planned when he had thought up this impromptu ambush.

With a last hard suck, John released Cam’s pulsating cock and slowly stroked him with one hand instead. “We could get caught.” John could hear that his voice was a few octaves lower than normal. “Does that excite you, Cam? Anyone could walk in here and find us.” It wouldn’t happen, it was dark in here and the lights would not come on unless John gave Atlantis the order to turn them on. John’s eyes were accustomed to it; he could vaguely see a bit more than shadows. Cam still had his eyes closed, if he was following orders, and probably forgot they were in the dark. They had more privacy here than they had in their quarters for the past few weeks, and that was what decided John on his change of plans from a simple blow job to a bit more.

“Answer me,” he tugged on Mitchell’s dick to prod him. “Does the idea of getting caught turn you on?”

“Yes,” the answer was a drawn out groan. Damn, his _panor'eten_ was close. The emotions between them were a mixed jumble, no telling where one ended and the other began. Bonded harmony, Heightmeyer called it, something to strive towards controlling outside of the bedroom as well as during times like these. He bent his head and took Cam into his mouth again, nipping lightly with his teeth, scraping the length of him as he sucked him down whole.

Pulling off again as he felt the muscles clench in Cam’s thighs under his fingers, John chuckled lightly. Timing was everything. “Would you like to get caught here, with my cock up your ass?”

“Oh, God,” Mitchell came in an explosive burst, which John had been ready for and swallowed down as he sucked Cam through his orgasm.

When he finished, John stood, grasped Cam’s shoulders and turned him to face the wall. He reached up to move Cam’s arms; arranging him to let him brace against them, his forehead pressed to his crossed wrists. John undid his pants and quickly slathered some lube over himself before quickly pressing up into his partner without warning or any additional preparation beyond what his earlier fondling had done.

Cam sucked a breath wetly between his teeth as John held his hips and began to pump into him. “You like that?” John asked, resting his chin on Cam’s shoulder. “Feel good?”

“Yeah, harder, baby. Go harder.”

That was all the encouragement John needed. He slammed up into Mitchell, driving his _panor'eten_ up onto his toes with the force of the repeated impacts against his ass and thighs. He came so violently that he saw stars for a moment. Riding out the aftershocks, he slumped against Cam’s back, his cheek pressed to his sweat soaked shoulder.

When his cock softened, he reluctantly pulled out. His legs felt a little jelly-like so he moved to put his back to the wall and slid down, tugging Cam’s hand to coax him to do the same. They sat side by side in the dark, panting from exertion.

“That was… well…” Mitchell finally breathed out.

“Yeah, it was.” Something came back to him and John asked, “Did you call me baby?”

“Uhm. I might have, does that bother you?”

John considered it, then shrugged, their shoulders were touching so Cam would feel the motion even if he could not see it. “I guess not. No one ever did before. Just, only in private, okay?”

“Okay,” Cam slung an arm around John’s shoulders and pulled him in to hug him tightly. “This was a good idea; I think we both needed it.”

“We need to find our houseguests their own quarters, is what we need to do,” John complained, snuggling in and letting Cam cuddle him for a brief time, before the afterglow wore off and he grew skittish about being handled once again.

Cam’s radio buzzed in his ear and John could clearly hear Chuck’s voice from where he sat. “Commodore Mitchell.”

Cringing, Cam bit his lip. “Damn, I hope that was off while we…”

“Actually, sir, it wasn’t, but I locked the channel down for you, I was the only one that heard anything, and I stopped listening,” Chuck replied calmly over the obviously open comm channel, as if overhearing his commanding officers having sex was an everyday occurrence.

John stifled a snort. “Did we get caught?”

Batting his _keri_ upside the head lightly for laughing at their predicament, Cam told him, “Yes we got caught.” He reopened the radio channel and said to the technician, “You’re a good man Chuck, and I rely on your discretion.”

Never one to let an opportunity pass, Chuck replied, “Of course, sir. Now, about that permanent spot on a Gate Team?”


	17. A Reckoning

Atlantis held memorial services for those lost to the Hrsul. As important closure for their grief stricken people, Heightmeyer had lobbied strongly for it and none of the senior staff had seen a reason not to go along with the proposal.

The Memorial Garden gained a stone monument that had once been the centerpiece of a destroyed fountain on Sateda. Ronon said it depicted one of the warrior goddesses that protected the souls of the dead until they could reach their final resting place in the heavens. He thought it would be an apt memorial for those lost and mentioned it to the doctor and Al Corrigan over lunch one day, Heightmeyer had thought it a grand idea and a team had soon been assembled to retrieve the piece and move it to Atlantis.

John stood stiffly between Cameron and his brother Dave as three little girls sang a very moving song about loss and remembrance while the dedication plaque was lowered into place before the statue.

~*~

Less than a month after the influx of Earthers, things had settled down somewhat. The water and food situations had stabilized, thanks to the engineering team and their Pegasus allies willing to trade parts of their harvest for the manpower to bring those harvests in. Manpower was now the Lantean’s chief trade good.

John was sitting in the Control Room with his feet up on an empty console, engaged in a good natured argument about sports with Chuck and Evan. The marines were asking for permission to construct a basketball court on the North Pier, and the requisition had sparked a discussion about sports in general.

The alarm klaxon went off and the Gate began the activation sequence.

Dropping his feet to the floor with a thump of his boots, John asked, “Do we have anyone off world?”

Checking the schedule for verification, Chuck shook his head. Lorne tapped his radio and summoned two extra security teams to the Gate Room; they could always be dismissed if they were not needed.

“Eight chevrons!” Chuck shouted excitedly as he checked the address in the database. “It’s the Milky Way Alpha Site! Receiving ID code now, it’s Marshal O’Neill’s code, sir.”

Sheppard followed Lorne to the railing as the wormhole engaged.

“Lower the shield,” John replied, a hopeful smile crossing his face. If O’Neill had survived, then perhaps this was all over, and people could go home and it had all just been a really bad dream. He looked over at Evan and saw the same hope in his eyes.

The Gate Room suddenly exploded in a riot of noise and light. A voice over the radio shouted, “Atlantis, we’re coming in hot, clear your Gate Room! Repeat, clear your Gate Room! Expect enemy fire.”

There were a few more blasts from energy weapons of some kind and then people began streaming in through the wormhole, in an eerie repetition of the events of a month prior. Laden with packs and bags and gear, the shell-shocked civilians ran into Atlantis, seeking asylum.

“Oh, no. Not again,” Sheppard moaned as Lorne immediately began barking orders to the marines to get the landing area cleared as soon as possible.

The Earth evacuation had been organized compared to this. People were screaming as weapons fire shot past them, following them through as they fled the Alpha Site. John jogged down to the Gate and stood beside it, waiting for someone with a uniform to come through to explain the situation. What they had now were panicked civilians who could only tell them that the Alpha Site was under attack.

Soldiers bearing stretchers with wounded began rushing through, and John’s heart sank as he saw that one of the men being carried via a hospital gurney into Atlantis was Marshal O’Neill, looking battered, ashen and drawn, and with one leg missing. Recognizing the doctor holding the IVs up and jogging alongside the stretcher, John ran to catch up to her.

“Doctor Fraiser!” he grabbed her arm and stopped her, pulling the IV bags from her hand and handing them to the nearest marine and gesturing that the man should go along and “Guard the Marshal.”

“Commander Sheppard. I need to get these people to your infirmary quickly and get them stabilized. There are more wounded coming, these were the patients we had in the infirmary when the attack started, there are others on the way.”

“What happened to the Marshal?”

She huffed impatiently but answered, “Antarctica fell. He was in the chair when the base collapsed, we had to amputate the leg, it was too badly injured. I really have to go, Commander!”

“Of course, thanks Doctor. Follow the hallway to the juncture, the infirmary is off to the left.” She nodded her thanks and ran off.

“Sheppard! What the hell?” Cameron came around a corner, a look of complete confusion on his face as he saw the chaos. “Déjà vu?”

“With fireworks!” John replied, and pulled Cam away from the danger zone as another strafe of enemy fire came through the Gate, forcing everyone in the vicinity to scramble out of the way. Deciding that the Gate Room floor was not the best place to be, Sheppard tugged on Mitchell’s sleeve and led him to the stairs.

Though Lorne did his best to control the stream of refugees and casualties, it got harder when people began pouring through almost on top of one another, pushing and shoving in their haste to get to safety before the wormhole closed. The marines gave up trying to calm them and just concentrated on herding them towards the large open rooms on the next level down where they had staged the first evacuation weeks earlier.

An Air Services Major with his arm in a sling and covered in blood stumbled through the Gate and John immediately gestured to have him culled from the mob and brought up to the Control Room. They had abandoned their post on the stairs and balcony, which were now a dangerous place to be with the random shots coming through from the other side. The Control Room at least had the Ancient version of plexi-glass to shield them somewhat from the stray shots.

“Commodore, Commander,” the Major said wearily as he shook off his marine escort and limped over and saluted them. “Major Kevin Marks, Sirs.”

“What happened?” Mitchell demanded, perhaps a little more gruffly than necessary.

There was another spate of enemy fire down below, and then gear and equipment began hurtling through the Gate. Marks pointed with his good hand and mumbled, “They’re pinned down, the guys near the Gate were going to start tossing the gear when and if the people couldn’t get close enough to run through.”

John crossed his arms and looked over at the mess in the Gate Room. They had another eighteen minutes or so before the gate shut down; he hoped the people on the other side could make it to the Gate in time. “Is it the Hrsul?”

“Yeah, they just showed up and started firing. We lost half the base in the first attack this morning.”

Frustration in his voice Cam asked, “Where’s Commodore Kawalsky?”

“Dead, in the first attack this morning. We didn’t know what else to do, sir. We asked the Marshal, he was a little delirious but he told us to come here.” Marks began to weave on his feet. Seeing that, Sheppard grabbed a chair and rolled it behind him while Cam shoved him down onto it. “We didn’t know where else to go, sir. The ZPM might have enough power for one more dial out.”

Moving around the injured and distraught Major, John patted his good shoulder and then went to stand by the window and watch for a second time as beleaguered humans fled the Milky Way for the dubious safety of Pegasus.

~*~

“Commander Sheppard, please report to holding room three.”

Puzzled, John tapped his radio. “Acknowledged. On my way.” He left Cam and Lorne pouring over the maps again. The Gate had cut off at the twenty five minute mark on the second connection, severed at the source, likely by the destruction of the Alpha Site Gate itself. They estimated they had an additional three thousand refugees now, but the head count was still underway.

Taking the stairs down one level, he soon reached the large open room with the number “3” on a hand lettered sign over the door. He nodded to the guards on duty and thought the door open. The room was crowded with frightened and upset people, many hysterical while others sat in numb shock over their second evacuation in such a short time. Lieutenant Stackhouse was seated behind a table near the door, helping with the intake and processing of their new citizens. John walked over and said, “Lieutenant, you called me?”

“John! John!” He was suddenly enveloped from behind by a pair of strong female arms and squeezed tightly. Tugging the arms away slightly so that he could move, he turned awkwardly in the embrace and looked down to see Wendy Mitchell staring up at him.

“Momma,” John wrapped his arms around her squeezed her just as tightly as she was holding him. “Momma, you’re here. You’re really here, you’re safe.” He rocked in place, trying to wrap his mind around the fact.

“Thank God. Oh, thank God, I’ve got one of my boys back.” Wendy began to sob into his shirt as she babbled, “I lost track of Cole in Colorado, I don’t know where any of the others are. DiDi and I got pushed through to that place all alone. I lost DiDi too, when the bombing started.”

“Momma, you need to come with me.” He steered her out of the holding room, taking her by the hand and tugging her along. He didn’t know how to break it to her about Cam, so he decided to just show her.

“Where are we going, John?” Wendy wiped the tears from her face and squeezed his hand.

He smiled at her. “Just up these stairs, someone is going to want to see you.” At that, she perked up and looked interested, speeding her steps a little.

John led her up the stairs and around the corner through the Control Room and over to Cam’s office. He had his back to the door, bent over his desk. Ordinarily, John would have stared, but this wasn’t the time for that. He let out a low whistle to get his _panor'eten's_ attention. Cameron turned with a puzzled look, which then turned into the first true and heartfelt smile John had seen on his lover’s face in weeks.

~*~

Startled at the unexpected appearance of the person he had been missing most, Mitchell could only manage to say, “Momma?”

“Cameron? Oh, my God!” Wendy covered her face with her hands and let out a deep breath before pulling them away and looking at her son again. She ran forward, clasping his face in her hands, looking into his eyes, checking if he was real, if he was her son. What she saw there was proof enough and she let out a shuddering sob. “Cameron, oh, my baby boy,” she whispered as he pulled her into a bear hug, lifted her off the floor and swung her around before setting her onto her feet again and simply holding her.

Cam looked over his mother’s head and saw John still standing in the doorway, a sheen of tears streaking his face as he watched the reunion. He reached out one hand to his _keri_ , calling him over, not wanting John on the outside of this. After hesitating for a few moments, John slowly came over and ducked under the arm Cam held up, snuggled his face into Cam’s neck and wrapped his arms around both Wendy and Cameron.

~*~

David Parrish planted a tree in the Memorial Garden to honor the fallen of the Earth Alpha Site, and another ceremony of remembrance was held, more heartrending hymns were sung by innocent faced little girls and boys, and another plaque was placed.

After the ceremony, John walked alongside Wendy in the open air park that adjoined the Memorial Garden. Their friends and family were gathering there for a day of companionship and rest. It was nothing like the first picnic John had experienced with the Mitchells so long ago in Kansas. This was a quiet, subdued gathering, but it reaffirmed the bonds of their friendship and love for one another.

Little Torra Dex was the princess of the party, basking in the attention being lavished on her as she was passed around to everyone, and sat in almost every lap present. Rodney McKay, quite surprisingly, turned out to be an enormous baby hog, constantly stealing and making off with her to hold long one-sided conversations about astrophysics with her. No one bothered arguing with McKay that a year old baby was incapable of understanding his technobabble, Rodney was too cute in his open adoration of the child.

“How are you, John?” Wendy asked, taking his hand as they walked along the garden path.

He almost answered with the same answer he gave everyone. But he was not fine, and he couldn’t lie to Wendy. “My nerves are shot. I don’t sleep so well anymore. But I have Cameron. I’m getting better.”

“That is all we can ask for, son. Places and things go away, but if we have the people, we have the most important thing.”

John stopped and looked down at her, troubled. “Everything is different. I’m different.”

“Is it? Are you?” She questioned, as she looked up into his eyes, she raised her fingers to trace the side of his face and then patted his cheek. “I still see the same man, a little worn around the edges, but the same man.”

He glanced over at where Cam was reclining on a blanket with Aunt DiDi and David Parrish, the three of them engaged in an animated conversation. Parrish’s hands were moving animatedly as he described something to the others. “I did things I’m not proud of, trying to find him; I’m ashamed, in fact. When he finds out, he’ll be angry and disgusted. He might not want me anymore. Then what do I do? I ruined things. Did I do it all only to lose him again?”

Wendy pursed her lips and shook her head back and forth in disappointment. “John Sheppard-Mitchell, do you think he doesn’t know? Do you think he wouldn’t have done the same things to get you back?”

“But…”

“No ‘but.’ You talk to him, you get this out in the open now, and you’ll see I’m right. And you’ll sleep better at night, I promise,” she stroked his cheek once more and left him standing there, frozen to the spot with indecision. Cam glanced up at Wendy’s approach, saw John and rolled up to his feet, crossing the grass quickly to get to him.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Cam took him by the elbow and led him away from the family a bit.

“I…” John opened his mouth to tell him, but shut it again. He couldn’t do this.

Cameron stared at him and then dropped his hands onto John’s shoulders and shook him lightly. “Tell me. Whatever it is, tell me.”

Taking a deep breath, John held his _panor'eten's_ gaze and said in a rush, “I did stuff, bad stuff, when you were gone, when I thought you were dead.”

“I know.”

“You know?” John’s mouth dropped open.

Cam nodded.

“How long have you known?”

With a considering tilt of his head, Mitchell counted in his head and then just shrugged. “I guess since I went back on duty and read through all the reports. I know about the Butcher. I understand, John, I really do. I probably would have done a helluva lot worse if our situations had been reversed.”

“So, you’re not mad, you don’t want me to go?”

“Never. I told you that. I won’t ever let anyone take me from you again. Anyone includes you, dumbass.”

John stared at him for a few moments and then he started to laugh. “I love you too, Cameron.”

Smiling, Cam eventually stopped the laughter with a kiss, a deep one, conveying all the love he felt for this partner he had never expected to have, his _keri_.

An Ending

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Artwork: Keri](https://archiveofourown.org/works/250772) by [Kazbaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazbaby/pseuds/Kazbaby)




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